


The Christmas Series

by coeurastronaute



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Canon, Christmas prompts, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-09 02:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 68,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12878169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coeurastronaute/pseuds/coeurastronaute
Summary: Just a Christmas prompt for every day of December (well, almost. 1-27)





	1. Day 1- Secret Santa

It was her favorite time of the year, the time when magic was tangible and fate was heavy-handed in its dealings. The giant windows of the market district were illuminated with all scenes of domestic tranquility and wonderment. Elves worked around the clock stringing garland and lights from every eave, and if she were being honest, she had a bit of a pep in her step herself. 

The holidays were her favorite time of year, and when Lexa picked a certain name from the company pool, she was certain that this was her year, this was the year to make a move and give some magic to someone who didn’t believe in it. 

From the moment Clarke started at the company, the fateful day when Lexa was caught blatantly staring at the beautiful blonde who smiled warmly as she walked down the hall toward her new office, when she pushed her glasses up on her nose and ran into the glass wall of the conference room trying to get a better look, the lowly accountant was a goner. 

It took months to figure out how to talk to the artist in the break room. It took more months to somehow be invited to some group thing at Clarke’s friend’s after work one night. It took everything she had in her to not ruin everything. 

The past three Christmases, Lexa had watched Clarke grow dour around this time of year. The first one, as she watched her father get sick and die before the new year, the others as just reminders of that moment and the shift in her family. But Lexa would stand for it no more. Christmas was magic, and she was bold with fate’s kindness, and so she was going to give Clarke Christmas again.

* * *

“You sure you don’t want me to get your secret Santa something?” Lexa offered, leaning against Clarke’s office door. 

“Nope,” she smiled, tucking her sketchbook into her bag. “I’ve got it covered this year.” She earned a quizzical cocked eyebrow, and a bit more disbelief from her friend. 

“You can’t just give them a twenty.” 

“Oh ye of little faith,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “You should be happy that I’m not pawning it off on you. I’ve caught the Christmas spirit you’re always raving about. Magic and lights and peace on earth and all that nonsense.” 

“It’s not nonsense.” 

Prim and poised, the accountant who leaned against the door distracted Clarke immensely, as much as she didn’t want to admit it. They kept each other at arms reach most of the time, but Clarke always wanted more, despite how standoffish the girl was. 

Clarke watched her push her glasses up on her nose and lull her head to the side as she slipped on her own coat. Lexa was kind, sweet, even, after her father died, and she was always this quiet force that urged her to be more. And those lips. And those eyes. 

When Clarke pulled her name for the secret Santa, she knew that this was the year, the year that she could give her back everything for the past few, for being her friend, for having those damn kissable looking lips. The magic was contagious, as much as she mocked it herself. 

“I’ll see you at the party tomorrow,” Clarke offered, taking the scarf from Lexa’s hands and tossing it around her neck. “I really do have a big of the Christmas spirit. Thank you for never letting me forget it.” 

Lexa gulped as Clarke focused on wrapping the scarf around her neck, watched her eyes focus on the precision of wrapping it tight, but not too tight, of taking care of her. She felt Clarke’s hands on her shoulders, making sure she was prepared for the weather outside. 

“Anytime,” she smiled, unable to breathe properly to save her life. 

“I know who got you.” 

“What?” Lexa blinked. 

“I know who got you for Secret Santa.” 

“Is it someone who is going to get me something good?” 

“Depends on your notion of good,” Clarke shrugged. 

“Goodness.”

* * *

“Lexa!” Clarke smiled as the accountant walked into the bar that the Christmas party was being held at for the company. 

“Hey,” Lexa smiled, wrapping her arm around her for the first time, letting it linger as Clarke’s arm stayed around her neck. 

“I’ve been waiting for you. Let me get you a drink.” 

“I actually…”

“Come on,” Clarke smiled, tugging her toward the bar. 

“Wait. No. One drink.” 

“That’s the Christmas spirit.” 

Lexa pulled off her scarf and let Clarke guide her to the bar, waving and saying hello to people who wished her well. She was stuck thinking about Clarke’s hand on her hip and how badly she needed a drink.

“You really are in a good mood,” Lexa observed as she took a shot and was handed another drink. 

“The holiday spirit.” 

“It looks good on you.” 

“Sweet talker.”

“Never been accused of that before.” 

“You actually are smoother than you realize,” Clarke promised, sipping her own drink. 

“Only when I try really hard.” 

With a grin, they softened into their normal banter, quickly catching up with friends and coworkers, though orbiting close to one another. Lexa was still never quite sure how that happened, and yet, she didn’t fight it at all. 

The normal Christmas party antics arose, the games and cheer and singing and pictures. The bosses made speeches and people drank too much. It snowed outside and no one knew at all. 

Well into her second round of karaoke, Clarke hopped off the stage at the late hour and bashfully bowed to her applause. 

“For someone who isn’t into Christmas, you sure do know a lot of Christmas songs,” Lexa teased. 

“I’ve been studying.” 

“I wouldn’t doubt it.” 

“Are you going to get up there?” 

“No way.” 

“Come one,” Clarke nudged her slightly. 

“I actually want to give you something.” 

“Me?” 

“Secret Santa and all,” Lexa decided, pumping herself up as she dug in her coat pocket for the tiny box.

For a moment, Clarke held it in her hands and stared at the box, confused and amazed and even a little rattled by the magic that led to this moment. Without knowing why, Lexa watched the artist start to chuckle before shaking the box slightly. 

“Is it a pony?” 

“It’s not a pony,” she rolled her eyes.

“Is it a car?” 

“It’s not a car.” 

“Is it a–”

“Just open it,” Lexa stopped another outlandish guess that would distract her from her nerves, only to be reminded of them. 

With a mischievous grin Clarke relented, and took her time tugging at the ribbon, watching Lexa squirm. The lights and the music of the bar melded together in the background as Lexa focused on one very precise thing. 

Lexa watched her smile fade, watched her brow furrow as she stared at the item inside the box. 

“Is this…?”

“It’s not the exact one. Obviously. But you told me you put his in the… coffin… And I guess… it was important to you.” 

“Lexa…” 

“I hunted it down. Some small shop in Dallas on some watch forum online. I think he overcharged me, but still–”

“This is…” Gently, Clarke picked up the watch and ran her thumb over the face. 

“Is it too mu–”

Before she could finish her worry, arms went around her neck. Clarke clutched at her neck and smiled against her shoulder. Surprised, it took her a moment to hug back, but eventually Lexa did, smiling herself. 

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” 

“It was supposed to get you in the Christmas spirit, but you’re already there.” 

“This is amazing.” 

“You’re special,” Lexa shrugged as Clarke pulled away slightly. “I didn’t want you to–”

Lips were warm and distracting and everything she dreamt they would be. Clarke couldn’t help herself, didn’t want to try. Still clutching the watch, she held Lexa’s shirt between her knuckles and kissed her thanks because words were lacking, and a girl scours obscure watch forums to find you one, and it was necessary. Lexa melted instantly, despite herself. 

“I got you something too,” Clarke whispered. 

“Hm?”

* * *

The night was cold, with thick flakes falling, blurring away the city. Not many braved the winter night, but it did nothing to stop Clarke from dragging Lexa onto the sidewalk, both with cheeks on fire and scarves wrapped tightly around their necks to hid the blush that covered them almost completely. 

“I’m a little nervous,” Lexa mumbled as they turned down the block. 

“It’s going to be great,” Clarke promised. 

“You kissed me.” 

“We got each other for secret Santa.” 

“So you kissed me?” 

“Don’t make it a thing.” 

“It’s a thing,” Lexa decided. 

“Do you want me to do it again?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Then don’t make it a thing,” Clarke warned, holding her hand and pulling her along. 

The park was empty, darkened at the late hour. Clarke placed Lexa in a particular spot and told her to stand there before sending off a text. Just as she was about to interrupt and ask what came next, the lights started to turn on, and Lexa froze, watching the world become illuminated. 

Each second, different strings of lights turned on until the park was lit up like it was noon. The entire Christmas light display beamed, while music started to play. Before them stood the ice rink in the center of it all. 

“Merry Christmas, Lexa,” Clarke grinned, holding up a pair of skates. “Is that enough magic?” 

“I thought it was a thirty dollar limit,” she breathed, struck by the glimmering evening, unable to focus on one distinct part. 

“I used it to grease the security guard’s palm.” 

“Wow.” 

Watching someone be amazed and happy, that pure kind of joy, that was what Clarke wanted, and now she understood what Lexa was always talking about when it came to the holidays. It crept back into her life because of the girl who refused to let her not enjoy herself, and this felt like an acceptable form of gratefulness. 

“Thank you,” Lexa nodded, finally accepting the skates. 

“Come on. We have a lot of magic to make.”


	2. Day 2- Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon Clexa-Grounder Christmas & Clarke first time seeing snow.

There was a smell that came with it. Deep in the night, the world grew disorientingly quiet, grew discerningly still, and it would begin. The chill in the air would be enough to break bones, would briskly freeze any skin it could find. Something changed, and no one else would know it, except for the Commander.

“Wake up,” Lexa whispered, digging her nose into Clarke’s neck, earning a growl. “It’s snowing.”

The fire snapped, it popped and burned across the room, and yet the chill in the air lingered once she slipped out of the blankets and warmth of the two bodies pressed close together. The excitement helped though, as Lexa hurried to pull on whatever clothes she could reach while the blob of blankets beside her complained into the pillow about the loss of heat.

The glass of the large doors that led to the balcony were frosted, but still, she opened them and shivered in the wind. The fat flakes were just starting to drift down, taking their time, swirling in the breeze. With a satisfied smile she hurried back into the room and slipped on boots before tossing Clarke’s clothes onto the bed.

“Come back to bed,” the girl complained.

“Get dressed. I have something to show you.”

“It’s cold.”

“It’s snowing. Come on.”

“Is it actually snowing, or is it just cold like last night.”

“It’s snowing,” Lexa promised, tugging at the blanket of the bed they now shared. “Come on.”

“But is it really snowing?”

“Clarke,” she whined, excited and eager and awake.

With a huff, the blankets were tossed back and messy blonde hair emerged. Lexa smiled and waited eagerly, pulling the blanket further and waiting for Clarke to dress. To her credit, Clarke wasn’t sure she ever saw Lexa so eager and excited. It was a welcomed change from the past few months when she was stressed about all manner of life.

“Are you ready?” Lexa asked as Clarke yawned and tugged on her shoes.

“I am. I didn’t think you were going to wake me up.”

“You’ve never seen it. It’s special.” Groggy and in need of a reward, Lexa kissed the girl who fell from the sky and zipped her coat for her. She liked being able to do that. “Just for a few minutes.”

“Show me.”

The swirling world of snowflakes accumulating was everything Clarke imagined, and yet it was indescribable, surpassing all of her wildest dreams. To have an image so clear in her head, and yet to experience was so different.

She shivered with the briskness, with the wind and the cold, but she didn’t notice much of it other than the sight and the way the smell of snow was the same as the smell of a temperature, something she never thought she would experience, and yet it made sense, inherently, as if it were part of her being to know it.

The entire world at a layer to it, a dusting of puffy white snow as the flames from the lights and fires danced across it many stories below. As far as she could see, the world came down in slow little tufts, and it was like being stuck in the snow globe that she had as a kid.

“This is…” Clarke tried, taking a few steps out onto the balcony, hands outstretched and catching as much as she could.

“Worth waking up for?”

“How long will it keep going?”

“I don’t know. Hopefully up to our knees.”

Happy at the idea, Clarke tilted her head up and closed her eyes, feeling the little bits of snow fall on her face, melting in spots. It felt gentler than the kisses Lexa left in the middle of the night. It all felt so rare and so new.

Lexa watched Clarke take it all in and enjoy the feeling of the secret and night. Pure joy was difficult to find, pure, unbridled, innocent enjoyment was the rarest commodity on their earth, and to see it on a face that she loved was a life-changing moment.

“We used to watch a lot of movies, and I remember seeing so much of this, but I couldn’t imagine it. I mean, I imaged it, it’s just… different.”

“Better?”

“So much better.”

For a few more minutes, she shivered and stared at the sky and the horizon until Lexa couldn’t take it and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

“Thanks for making me wake up.”

“Let’s get you back to bed before you freeze.”

“But I want snow now,” Clarke furrowed.

“It’ll be there tomorrow.”

It took a few more minutes, but they stayed out in the snow as long as they could, watching it swirl and float along. Snowflakes still in her hair, Clarke’s teeth chattered as Lexa dragged her back inside and put her close to the fire. It was quick work getting out of their hastily tossed on clothes and back into the bed.

“I like the snow.”

“I knew you would.”


	3. Day 3- Baby (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part one: the year prior to the baby

There was a distinct chill to the morning, one that was almost unavoidable. Overcast and wanting to do nothing but snow, the culmination of the holiday season came with just the occasional flurry and threat of accumulation.

Deep in the burrow of blankets, Clarke woke to the feeling of the body in her arms stretching slightly, half awake on its own. She grinned with her eyes closed, and kissed at shoulder just beneath the shirt.

“Merry Christmas,” Lexa hummed, refusing to open her eyes as well.

“Presents?”

“Two more minutes of this.”

“I’m going to go put your presents out.”

“You already did,” Lexa sighed, tilting her head to earn more kisses as her wife shifted in the bed.

“Those were just the ones my mom sent.”

“Stay here.”

“It’s Christmas,” Clarke reminded her, as if she could forget, as if it were possible in the house that was expertly decorated and meticulously reminded, that it was any other day.

All Lexa could do was growl her complaints as Clarke kissed her one last time before pulling away and slipping from the bed, much too eager, in her wife’s opinion. The sounds of rummaging could be heard down the hall. A few minutes later, she pulled the sheets over her head as the low hum of festive music began.

It was not until the coffee started and the aroma made its way down the hall that Lexa gave up, and pushed herself from the bed, tugging at the sleeve of the ridiculous red and green pyjamas her wife made her wear. With a yawn, she stumbled down the hall and scratched her neck as she made it into the kitchen.

From the very beginning, Lexa knew her wife’s propensity for Christmas. It was a snowy December day that she fell in love with her, the absolute first moment she met her. Flakes in her hair, cheeks pale and then burning red in the freezing cold, she was a sight, and Lexa gawked at the girl who entered the bar her sister dragged her to, and understood how people said time stood still.

The first night didn’t end. It rolled right into the next day, right into the next date, right into a few years, right into a proposal, right into a wedding. Over the past few years, Lexa grossly underestimated her wife’s love of the holiday season, despite her insistence the first night.

Lexa smiled to herself as she woke up and watched her wife pouring them coffee, moving around the kitchen, picking up a few things and adjusting a few cards that hung around the door. Lights and garland and ornaments and wreaths littered every inch of the house, and Lexa let it happen, doomed to be the one who helped put it away in the attic, who would have to dig it out the following year. But at this moment, in those ridiculous themed pyjamas, she remembered the girl with the snow in her hair who completely changed her life just by walking into a bar.

“Hi,” Clarke smiled, finding Lexa watching her. “I made coffee.”

“I see that.”

“Go get my presents.”

“Maybe I didn’t get you any,” Lexa teased.

Already, the tree was full of presents underneath, the stockings thick with the addition of little boxes sent from family and friends.

It’d been a surprise, when Clarke suggested they stay home for Christmas, as they’d done a good enough job of alternating between houses and families, promising dinner here, lunch there. But to not have to travel, to be able to just be themselves, it was the best gift Lexa could have asked for at any point.

“You got me some,” Clarke shook her head. “Right?”

“Close your eyes and don’t peek.”

“I’m going to go let the dog in. Go get my presents.”

With a kiss, Clarke moved past Lexa towards the backyard. It took some effort, to keep the presents hidden, but Lexa finally figured out that her wife would never, ever, think of looking in the basement. And so that is where they went.

“You got all of this for me?”

“Some are for Oscar,” Lexa shrugged as Clarke handed her the cup of coffee and took her seat on the floor beside the tree.

“No, not that one,” Clarke grabbed one of the presents Lexa picked up to open. “That one is for last. “Just wait.”

“Now I want to open that one most.”

“Just… here,” she shoved another random one in her wife’s hand.

The dog pranced around and licked at the two who sat on the floor. Lexa handed him a giant bone, grinning as he tossed it around before settling beside them, still excited and eager.

The bottom of the tree emptied as the trash and paper grew into an ocean beside them. Lexa held her breath as her wife opened some of the presents before earning grateful kisses. They took pictures and sent them to the families with the opened gifts that had been mailed to hem. It was perfect and quiet and theirs.

“Do I get this one now?” Lexa wiggled her eyebrows and held up the present with the big gold bow on it.

“I don’t know. I should make breakfast or something,” Clarke swallowed and knit her knuckles nervously.

“I’m going to love it.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to open it now,” she warned, giving her wife a moment to adjust. “I’m sure I can always return it if I don’t like. Which is impossible.”

“Well… very impossible,” Clarke wagered, biting her lip and holding her breath.

A year in the making, the seconds stretched out now as her nerves played the conga in her body. Every bit of her was alive and on edge with the revelation. After a few months of trying, they decided that they needed a break, and Clarke saw Lexa’s sadness hidden in the unrelenting support. Which is why she went alone just two months prior. She couldn’t handle the support, and love, and failure she felt. It was how she got to do this.

“Well, I like the frame,” Lexa chuckled as she started to unwrap. “I don’t… recogn–”

Holding her breath tightly, Clarke swallowed and waited as her hand migrated to her stomach.

“What?” her wife furrowed and slowly tugged at the rest of the paper. “How?”

“Do you remember when I wasn’t feeling well over Thanksgiving?” Lexa nodded as Clarke continued, her hands shaking slightly. “I took a test that week, but I wasn’t sure, so I went to the doctor to confirm, and it’s not much…”

“But… when?”

“I went in October. I know we decided to take a break until after the new year, but I wanted to try so you didn’t have to go through it.”

“You’re… this is our… I would have… what?” she looked up finally, brow peaked to ridiculous new heights and eyes glassy and confused with what emotion to feel. A second later she looked back down at the picture before her face relaxed and a smile appeared on it, followed quickly by a laugh and then a quick glance back at her wife. “A baby? You’re…”

“I don’t think we can return it,” Clarke smiled. “I lost the receipt.”

A second later, arms were around her neck and lips were kissing her face before a face dug into her neck.

“I love you so much. A baby!”

“A baby,” Clarke promised, laughing at the reaction. “Our baby.”

“Our baby,” Lexa repeated, finally kissing her hard and well and all manner of grateful and thankful and overjoyed.

When she pulled away, she placed her hand on Clarke’s stomach and watched her own fingers there.

“Oh my goodness,” she sighed, all of the emotions catching up with her, letting her filter through them.

“Good Christmas?”

“Best one yet.”

“Are you happy?”

“So happy,” Lexa shook her head, still in disbelief. “Are you?”

“Unbelievably.”


	4. Day 4- Baby (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part 2: Clarke and lexas first Christmas with their newborn baby.

Deep and dark was the night, interrupted by the glow of the lights of the rest of the block. From the front door, the yard was illuminated by golden shadows, highlighted with green and red blinking extras, a true monstrosity in one of the occupant’s opinion. Quiet was the night, as the snow came down in freckled chunks and sprinkles, adding to the inches already accumulated.

The baby babbled and chewed on her mother’s sweatshirt string, undeterred by the late hour or the yawn of the body holding her.

“Why are you not tired?” Lexa whispered, rubbing her daughter’s back as she paced slowly through the dimly lit house once again.

With a sigh, the dog stretched and rolled over on his pillow, watching the trek once again of the intrepid non-sleepers. It was a familiar route, as the baby somehow decided that sleep was for the weak, and she would only do it in spurts. Lexa learned it well, usually being the one who took the night shift. Clarke was better at getting her to sleep, but Lexa liked the quiet of the night, liked to steal a few minutes with Wyatt.

“I can’t believe that exactly one year ago I found out that you were going to exist, and what a year it has been,” she hummed as a tuft of soft hair shook and headbutted her chin with a gurgle.

She kissed her daughter and walked another lap through the dining room, around the living room, pausing to look at the lights and ornaments before settling on the couch and letting the baby talk in fake words to her.

The presents were still hidden in the house somewhere else, Clarke being adamant that Santa did not come until everyone fell asleep. The stockings were hung, two big ones, a small one, a paw one. The fireplace still had a glow from the embers of the smothered fire.

“Next year will be a bit more fun,” Lexa promised. “And the year after we can probably start some traditions. I don’t have many, but your mom is very particular.”

There was no answer, only the telltale yawn and bubbling of a sleepy girl who was already fighting against the sleep, as if she were afraid to miss anything.

“She’s going to make you wear sweaters and holiday themed everything, but you already know that,” the mother smiled and let her head loll back. “And you’ll get a calendar. And we’ll bake cookies. Sit on Santa’s lap. It’s just weird what a year can do, kid.”

Lexa yawned again and hummed as her daughter wiggled against her chest, tucking her little fist into her sweatshirt.

“I don’t think I’ve slept in a year,” Lexa realized.

The baby didn’t care at all, just babbled a little more.

* * *

There was a Christmas tradition that Clarke loved above most else, and it was waking up the Grinch beside her on Christmas morning and pulling her out of bed. It was simple and quiet, but it was always their own. It left her a little perplexed that she woke up without anyone in her bed.

“Lexa?” she called, clearing the sleep from her throat and hissing against the cold floor.

The only noise that met her outside the bedroom door was the paws giddily prancing toward her. Met with love and affection, she rubbed his head before asking where everyone went. Not providing any real useful information, she rubbed his ribs before approaching the kitchen.

Just in the stages of waking, her daughter cooed and stretched against her wife’s chest, clutched protectively there, even in her sleep. Exactly one year ago, Clarke remembered laying in bed with her wife and imagining moments in the future. Exactly one year ago, she fell insanely short at imagining how full a human heart could feel.

“Good morning, baby,” she grinned and carefully detached the infant. Kisses were added to a sleepy face with balled up fists rubbing against cheeks and eyes. “Merry Christmas,” Clarke smiled and kissed her awake.

“I’m up,” Lexa snorted slightly as she jolted from sleep, her body sensing the lack of wiggling child weight against it. “Where’s…”

“I got her,” Clarke promised, kissing her wife’s forehead. “Mommy got you to finally go to sleep, but broke the no holding you all night rule. Yes she did.”

“Mommy knows we only have a few hours before she’s eighteen and running away with a stage hand.”

“Why don’t you go make us coffee and a bottle while I change her, and then Santa can come?”

“Wait,” Lexa blinked her eyes against the morning, squinting oddly and smiling slightly. She tugged her wife until she earned a kiss. “Merry Christmas.”

Melting into it, Clarke hummed while the baby played with her necklace, unaware of anything at all. She ran her hand over her wife’s shoulder and into her hair before it got away from them and her knees gave out completely.

“It feels like our first Christmas all over again.”

“It is,” Lexa agreed, tickling her daughter and earning a giggle as she hid in Clarke’s shoulder.

“Look at what we did in a year.”

“Please tell me you didn’t get me the same thing as last year. I can’t handle another year of not sleeping,” Lexa groaned with a smile.

“I go and get pregnant one time without telling you and now you suspect it every time I go grocery shopping.”

“Precedent.”

“What a cute little precedent,” Clarke lifted her daughter, blowing a noise on her belly and earning a loud laugh and pats on her head as she moved down the hall.

For just a moment, clad in her ridiculous striped pyjamas with little elves frolicking on them, sitting in the living room with a new stocking this year, beside a tree with too many lights, across from a fireplace with too much decorations, in a house with too many ornaments, and the sound of her wife singing to their daughter as she was changed in the nursery down the hall, Lexa leaned her head back and closed her eyes and smiled.


	5. Day 5- Delayed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday themed prompt: One on a business trip trying their damned to just get home to the other.

“Thank you passengers! We have some updates on some of our flights,” the cheery voice chartered as much of the terminal slowed or paused, hoping to hear good news. “Flight 1884 to Fort Lauderdale is now boarding at gate A4. Again. Flight 1884 is now boarding. Please proceed to the counter.”

Anxiously, Clarke held the phone to her shoulder and looked up, as if the ceiling or the Creator herself would tell her what she wanted to hear. She held her breath.

“Flight 3576 to Toronto is experiencing a two home delany. That’s flight 3576 still leaving out of gate A18, is currently delayed again due to the storm hovering over the lakes.”

Her head fell with the news and she shook it, taking a second to compose herself before lifting the phone once more as she looked out the window and saw the flurries just ending outside, lingering as long as they could on the lake.

The televisions above all silently told the same story of the lake effect snow settling between the artist and home.

“We got delayed again,” Clarke finally sighed into the phone. “I shouldn’t have come so close to the holiday. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, you couldn’t have predicted this huge storm. They predicted two to four inches, now snowpacalypse.”

“Still,” she shook her head, sniffling slightly, trying to swallow up her own self-anger and utter devastation.

Not once had there been a Christmas apart, not since they were seniors in high school, and the idea of ruining that streak, of missing out on the Christmas Eve activities, it was all too much.

Two cancellations the day before, and three more delays this morning left Clarke with little hope for a Christmas miracle, as much as she wanted to believe. The overwhelming idea of missing everything was too much for the naivety of magic and hope. And so she sat in the terminal, and while everyone else complained and grumbled about, she bit her lip and felt her eyes water, and swallowed it down so as not to upset her wife even more than she knew she had by being stranded in a different state.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Clarke. This meeting wasn’t going to wait, but we will. I’ll just tell the kids that tomorrow is Christmas Eve. They won’t even notice.” Clarke chuckled and wiped her cheek at the notion. There certainly was not doubt in her daughter’s mind what the date was, not after the numerous countdowns she created and meticulously checked. Too smart for her own good, though it would work on her brother. “You could still get a flight, you know?”

“I love you, so much, Lexa.”

“I know. Don’t cry. I have someone who wants to talk to you. She’s been tugging my shirt half to death. You good?”

“Yeah, give me.”

“Make sure she gives me you back,” Lexa warned.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Mommy!” an excited voice quickly came over the phone, too loud for Clarke’s ears to appreciate, making her pull away slightly and smile despite her terrible mood brewing. “Mommy! Guess what we found Ernie doing?”

“Wyatt Bobuyit, what’s that, babe?”

“He was eatin’ some of the cookies we baked last night for Santa! Can you believe that? He’s a naughty elf,” her daughter explained, scolding the toy appropriately.

“I’m sure you just did such a good job decorating that he couldn’t help himself. I’m sure I’d eat all the cookies too. Do you still have enough for Santa?”

“We have the plate all made, and I’m giving him my snowman cup that you got me that lights up to put the milk in and Mama let me and Sammy pick out celery for the reindeers.”

“That’s a very good idea. Have you been helping Mama while I’m away? Because Ernie still has to give Santa one more report about how good and what a big girl you’ve been.”

“I have!”

Excitedly, the first grader rattled off a thousand different things, talking as faster than her lips would allow her, unable to keep up with the racing thoughts. Clarke smiled sadly despite herself, her heart breaking slightly.

Christmas was the best time of the year. There would be movies and cookie baking and all manner of celebration. There were traditions developed, curated, and Clarke made the voices the best when they read the stories, and she was missing it.

“When are you coming home?” Wyatt asked.

“As soon as I can,” Clarke promised.

“Are you going to be here for the movie? Santa is coming tonight.”

“I’m trying my best.”

“You aren’t going to be here for Christmas?”

“I’m trying, but the weather.”

There was a quiet and Clarke had to stand up and walk slightly, her nerves getting the best of her. She could hear her daughter rummaging around far away, and she could hear her thinking, though she was quiet, and she would bear it well enough.

“Are you warm?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I’m warm.”

“Do you want me to write a note for Santa so he knows you’ll be here as soon as you can so he will leave presents?”

“I’m sure he knows, but thank you. Can you just make sure you get to bed and know that I’ll be home as soon as I can and I miss you?”

“I know, Mommy. Me too. I hope you get home soon. I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Let me talk to Mama, okay?”

Far out past the window, the snow could be seen blinding the most of the distance. The planes were being doused in anti-freeze while everything iced over no matter what.

“Don’t worry, Clarke,” Lexa promised once again. “It’ll be okay.”

“I can’t miss Christmas.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But you can’t get upset about it.”

“I am.”

“We can hold off and wait until you get here.”

“No, no, go and do everything we do. Wyatt is excited, and she loves Christmas. Just… get all of the pyjamas on, and send me pictures.”

“Don’t cry, love.”

“I’m not,” Clarke lied, wiping her own cheek.

“It’s just a day. You’re the one that preaches the real meaning of Christmas. It’s about family and magic and hope and not any of the other junk.”

“I need to be home.”

“You’ll get home.”

“I’m going to go, see what I can do. I love you.”

“I love you too. Be safe.”

The terminal was suddenly alive again, registering sounds and existing, no longer removed as she was when her wife’s voice was on the phone. Clarke checked her watch and set her jaw and refused to accept the weather.

* * *

By the time dinner finished, and dishes were done, Lexa was exhausted. She’d survived times with her kids, but having both of them for longer than anticipated, outnumbered and outgunned without her co-captain wore her down. With a sigh, she leaned against the counter and sipped her beer before looking at the toddler who attached herself to her leg, sitting happily on her foot, waiting to add a little resistance training to the task of cleaning the kitchen.

“Should we try to call Mommy again?” Lexa asked, knowing she would only get one answer.

“No.”

“Don’t you want Mommy to come home and see you?”

“No!” she nodded happily.

“I don’t want to upset her either. How about after bath time?”

“No.”

“Perfect. You first.”

Sam looked like Lexa, or at least that was what she told herself, that was what she was told by her wife. Big green eyes and darker hair than her older sister, Lexa let her chatter in the bathtub, unaware of much else other than splashing around and making as big of a mess as humanly possible, to which she succeeded.

The family pyjamas were already laid out for the holiday, courtesy of her wife, and it made Lexa’s heart ache to know she was missing it, to know that it was making Clarke’s heart hurt as well.

“Are you ready for Santa to come tonight?”

“No.”

“You better not let your mother hear you talk like that,” Lexa smiled, laying the wiggling bundle on her bed as she went about drying the toddler and slipping the new sleep clothes on. “Wy, go hop in the bathtub!” she called, waiting for a second. “I mean it. Pause the show.”

The scampering of feet came a few seconds later, and Lexa smiled, slowly rubbing lotion on her daughter and fitting her into the cozy clothes.

Wyatt was all Clarke, and Lexa felt outnumbered by all of them. Strong-willed and obstinate. Too smart for her own good. Too feisty and too emotional, she was an absolute thunderstorm in human form. Lexa was in love.

“Are you going to stay awake for the movie?” Lexa cooed against her daughter as she picked her up.

“No.”

“I know, but just for part of it,” she decided. “Go get blanket and Rocky.” Off like a bolt of lightning, the toddler was still all energy, while her mother yawned before finding the other one stepping into the bathtub. “We’re going to watch Rudolph after bath, and have some milk and cookies. Sound good?”

“Is Mommy on her way? It’s getting dark outside.”

“She’s trying, honey,” Lexa promised. “She’s working real hard to get home.”

“Do you think…” the little girl paused and lifted her chin as a washcloth moved under it. “Do you think if I told Santa to take back all of the presents, he could just pick up Mommy from the airport and then deliver her instead because I want her to be home for Christmas more than I want the complete set of Avengers but especially Black Widow but I would tell Santa how good I was and if he was going to give me that, he could keep it for someone else and just bring Mommy home.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Lexa smiled fondly at the big blue eyes that followed her constantly. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“But Santa gives you want you want if you’re good. I just want her home because I like when she reads the stories and she sings all the songs bad and she makes the silly cookies and you smile more.”

“I’m almost certain Santa has a strict policy on no one else allowed in the sleigh.”

“Oh,” she nodded, furrowing as she thought about it deeply. “Maybe he can make a exception. Just this time. If I ask nicely.”

“Maybe,” Lexa smiled and kissed her daughter’s forehead before finishing up the bath.

* * *

The airport shut down. Flights came in, but none were able to take off as the cold of the evening came in and the battle against ice was lost. Outside the roads were plowed and plowed and salted and plowed again and again, though with little headway made in keeping them clear.

It was slow going, inching down the roads, but Clarke did, the heat of the rental car blasting violently. The radio whimpered quietly while the wipers kept time and squeaked against the snow.

“The current route is the fastest route, despite construction and traffic. You will arrive at three thirty-six a.m.”

“Fuck,” Clarke sighed and white-knuckled the wheel as her back tires wobbled slightly before she got control again and continued inching.

* * *

“In bed, let’s go,” Lexa muttered as she heaved her daughter from her shoulders into her big girl bed. “It’s time to sleep.”

“I want to wait until Mommy gets here.”

“You can’t. Then Santa won’t come. Shh, don’t wake the baby.”

“Sammy sleeps too good. She won’t hear.”

“Let’s not tempt it,” the mother smiled and held up the comforter so the little girl could slide beneath it. Carefully, she tugged the blanket from under the pillow, the well-tattered and much loved blanket, and she covered her daughter with it as well, up to her chin. “What was the best part of your day?”

“The cookies,” Wyatt offered quickly, as Lexa ran her palm against her daughter’s cheek, watched her think a bit harder. “There was a second that I was most happy, when me and Sammy were under the tree and the lights and that was nice.”

“That is a good moment.”

“I miss Mommy.”

“Me too.”

“Do you want to sleep in here? So you are not alone?”

“Thank you, but I have a few things to get done,” Lexa replied. “Do you know how much I love you?”

“Mmmmm, this much,” Wyatt decided, stretching her arms out wide.

“Close,” Lexa whispered, leaning towards her daughter, letting her hug her tighter. “Do you know how far the moon is?”

“Two, three, nine, hundred thousand miles.”

“Did Mommy teach you that?”

“She knows all of the planets.”

“She’s a smarty pants. But that’s how many times I love you. The whole way to the moon and back. Infinity times.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, baby. Sleep tight.”

It took a lot more kisses and tucking in, but Lexa finally turned off the light and left the nightlight on for her daughter, pausing outside of her door to listen to her whisper to her animals about the impending holiday.

Once more, Lexa tried to call her wife, though she again, earned no answer. It was one of Clarke’s favorite traditions, to put the presents out, sneaking back and forth between the kids’ rooms, waiting for them to sleep so she could dig presents out of the various hiding places.

The memory of sitting on the couch while her wife rearranged presents made her even more sad as she took a seat and waited. She nibbled a cookie and tried calling her wife once again.

* * *

“Wake up!” the little girl pounced on the body on the couch. “Santa brought Mommy home!”

“Hi, kiddo,” Clarke caught her breath after being jumped on and after having arms squeeze her tightly.

“What was the sleigh like? Did you play with the reindeer? Did you tell Santa I was good? Did he let you come down the chiminey or did you use the door?”

“One question at a time. Me first. How’s my girl?”

“Look at all the presents! Did you help him bring them in?”

“I did. And I fed Dasher and Vixen all of the carrots. Santa loved your cookies by the way. He said they were the best ones he’d ever had, across the whole world.”

Blue eyes grew too big and Clarke smiled at her daughter’s amazement.

“Where’s Mom?”

“Clarke?” Lexa asked, squinting against the morning and noise and her own tiredness. “You made it? How?”

“Hi,” she smiled, standing up with her daughter hanging from her neck.

Another member of the family threw herself at her, hugging her just as tightly and kissing her as quickly as she could.

“How?”

“Santa.”

“I love you.”

“I know,” Clarke chuckled. “I only got about twenty minutes of sleep.”

“That’s what you get for galavanting with Santa all night.”

“I’m going to get Sammy!” Wyatt dropped herself before scampering down the hall.


	6. Day 6- Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Christmas Together-discourse over real vs fake tree

After spending the day sloshing through the muck and salty sludge of the city sidewalks, after a much too long day that consisted of much too much time running around, finishing what she could before the offices closed for the holidays, when she walked through the door to the empty townhouse, Lexa wanted nothing more than to thaw, drink a bottle of wine, drunkenly grope at her girlfriend after earning that right, and sleep, preferably in that order, though she honestly was alright to jump right to sleeping.

She turned on the lights as she walked through the house, shedding her coat and boots and bag down the hall. She grabbed a beer and flopped on the couch, hungry and debating what to order because there was no way she was moving, or cooking, or thinking beyond any of the basic survival instincts of her brain.

Any other day, and she would be more eager to cook, to switch the wash around, to return those texts and emails and plans for the weekend. Any other day, and she wouldn’t have been beaten down by the weather and the season and the cheer that was shoved down her throat, but Lexa was exhausted, and so she didn’t care about a thing.

Deep down into the couch she sank and let the day wash away from her mind until she was nothing more than a blank state and tasted the delicious freedom of lethargy.

“Lexa!” her fiancée called as she opened the door excitedly. “Baby are you home yet?”

“In here,” she called over her shoulder as she finished her first bottle.

“Why are you in your sweats?”

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Clarke frowned, leaning down and kissing the girl she was going to marry. “Why aren’t you ready?”

“Because I had the longest day possible and I was almost positive there were no other pressing issues.”

“It’s Christmas.”

“It’s December fifth.”

“We’re way behind,” Clarke shook her head, hurrying into the next room while Lexa rolled her eyes and kept watching television. After a few minutes of rummaging she emerged again. “Hey, why aren’t you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“We’re going shopping tonight!,” Clarke reminded her, nudging her feet from the coffee table as she passed to put her shoes on, freshly changed from work clothes. “Remember? Dinner, and the ice carving and caroling and picking out a tree.”

“I thought we were just getting a fake one.”

“That’s not fun.”

“The real ones die, and then we have to take everything off of it and throw it out.”

“Okay, Grinch. We’ll discuss over dinner.”

“Clarke… I had a day. The longest day–”

“You promised,” she mumbled, looking oddly hurt.

“I just assumed you were going to pick everything out anyway. You know I don’t really care about the holiday.”

“I care.”

“Can we go tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Clarke sighed and shook her head.

“I’m just exhausted.”

“No, I know.”

“Come here. You don’t know,” Lexa promised, tugging her hand. “Come on, yeah, settle in there.”

As much as she was upset, Clarke let herself be tugged and found herself relaxing into her girlfriend. She played with the string of her sweatshirt.

“I was looking forward to this all day, and you agreed.”

“You twisted my arm and got excited about something that I honestly don’t care about, I’d hate to say that you brought this one on yourself.”

“Can’t you just pretend?”

“No, because you love this so much, and I honestly just… I don’t really care. We never had traditions, my parents were working, my dad was deployed, I mean… I don’t know how to Christmas.”

“Traditions start whenever you want,” Clarke informed her. “And I’m trying to start our own. We’re going to be a family next year, and I want us to have traditions.”

“You’re killing me,” Lexa whined, letting her head droop forward in defeat against Clarke’s shoulder.

“Let me educate you.”

“Ugh.”

“It can be fun,” Clarke promised, running a soothing hand over Lexa’s shoulder, into her neck, into her hair where she tugged and tilted her head slightly. “Lots of fun.”

“I don’t want to agree to this.”

“You just want to be a grinch every year?”

Lips moved to her neck, and tired as she was, Lexa felt a second or third or fifth wind coming, and so she gulped.

“Does that put me on the naughty list?”

“No making Christmas related sex jokes if you’re not going to let me get a real tree.”

“Woman, I haven’t let you do anything since we’ve met,” Lexa chuckled as legs shifted around her, capturing her hips.

“You’re right,” Clarke smiled, winning the war quite handedly as Lexa’s hands squeezed her ass and her eyes grew lidded, eager. “Let’s go.”

“I meant tomorrow.”

“But I remembered that you’ll do whatever I want as long as you can touch my butt.”

“Clarke. Please.”

“Oh, so you have enough energy to feel me up but not to take me out and help me Christmas shop?”

“I love you.”

“Come on,” Clarke smiled, kissing her once more, a promise of what was to come.

* * *

The streets were crowded, and the moods changed, which Lexa couldn’t quite understand, because on her commute home, everyone was miserable, and now, every single person was laughing and full of cheer. It was baffling, but she went along with it, bundled up in her scarf and hat and coat that Clarke made certain she put on despite her protest.

The streets were still slushy and the weather was still frosty, bordering completely upon absolutely too cold to function, but it was a different kind of cold burn than she remembered on her way home. Still, Lexa wanted to be back on the couch, eating take out and sleeping. Still, she was exhausted. Still, it didn’t matter because Clarke’s gloved hand was holding her own and she was a weak, weak woman.

“Look at how pretty they all are,” Clarke sighed as they walked through the tree lot.

“It doesn’t feel wrong that we culled these living trees for sport to dress them up in ridiculous lights and put presents under as their last agonizing weeks on the planet before tossing them outside for the trashman to take away?”

“Or, we celebrate them and decorate them with love.”

“And toss them outside for the trashman to take away.”

“Just help me pick out a tree carcass,” Clarke rolled her eyes and smiled as Lexa followed through the selection.

It was slow going, but Lexa followed dutifully. She agreed to whatever one Clarke wanted because it was easier and she honestly could not tell a difference between any of them.

But it didn’t matter fully, because Clarke grabbed her and kissed her and thanked her before taking her to dinner, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

“What do you want?”

“What?”

“What color? What theme?” Clarke smiled, tugging Lexa down the aisles.

“I have not put much thought into that, if you can believe it.”

“We can get whatever you want. If I’m going to be introducing you to traditions, you get to pick.”

“There has to be a theme?” Lexa furrowed, looking at the predecorated trees in the Christmas section as they walked slowly through it.

“Whatever you want.”

It took a few minutes, it took longer than she would have liked, but Lexa walked through the store a few times, picking whatever she could, not too excited, not sure exactly what she would need. Clarke was no help, just encouraging.

Clarke watched her like someone who was walking on the moon for the first time. The entire time they were together, they just went to Clarke’s parents’. And that was it. Lexa bore it all as best she could, neither here nor there on the subject. But Clarke was convinced that if she took her to get her own tree, and to go through the struggle of setting it up, Lexa would fall in love.

“What’s wrong?” Clarke asked as Lexa stared at the wall of ornaments.

“Can I get any of them?” she asked without looking at Clarke.

“Yeah,” she chuckled, amused by the innocent nature of her girl.

“Any of them?”

“Lexa, you can have any of them.”

With a small movement, she picked up a box and smiled eagerly.

* * *

It took two days for the tree to be delivered. Lexa inhaled the smell and understood why Clarke made her choice to get it. The house was absolutely exactly what she never knew she needed.

She complained when Clarke had her outside with a ladder in the freezing cold, stringing lights, wrapping them around the tree, around the porch, over the bushes. But she earned a kiss and hot cocoa and that was well enough. If she had to pick, Lexa would say that was a tradition that could keep happening.

“What’s your favorite part?” Clarke asked as they flopped on the couch once everything was cleaned up, once the stockings were hung, once the lights were put around the house.

“The ornaments I picked out,” she smiled, staring at the only two that weren’t bulbs.

“You’re a nerd. Like, a literal nerd.”

“Han Solo isn’t a nerd. He’s tough. So is Leia,” Lexa shook her head. “I’m Han Solo, in case you were wondering.”

“Of course you are,” Clarke yawned, burrowing into Lexa’s ribs. “You did a good job decorating for your first attempt.”

“Can the tradition ever be just you cleaning it up?”

“You’re cute.”

“So that’s a yes?” Lexa asked happily.

“Just…,” Clarke sighed and dug deeper into Lexa’s sweater. “Hush a bit. Let’s enjoy it.”


	7. Day 7- Mistletoe Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Office Christmas Party-miseltoe kiss

The office was absolutely crazy, turned upside down from what it normally was, the music playing festive songs, the different groups singing along, lights twinkled and the spiked drinks flowed, leading to renewed camaraderie and yuletide celebration.

Deep in the corridors of the building, only one light remained on in an office that was tucked deep in the creative part of the floor. The journey was perilous and illuminated only by the faint string of lights that moved through the halls, but still, she made it anyway.

For a few minutes, Lexa leaned against the door to the small office that was split four different ways. The drinks in her hands were cold, but still, she waited and watched the artist peering over the paper, moving her hand in precise kinds of ways.

There were numerous times she caught herself watching her friend in ways that she realized were far from friendly, but it was Christmas, and she had a drink, and she didn’t care about anything other than the blonde with the eyes that were like bits of stars and salt all mixed together.

“I don’t know if you noticed or not, but there’s a party going on,” Lexa finally murmured, careful not to scare her.

With a loud huff, Clarke sighed and leaned back in her chair before smiling when she saw who the voice was attached to.

Clad in the cutest of all ugly sweaters, the lawyer was perfection, stoic and still oddly stern and unwavering despite the outfit. From the moment Clarke saw her, she’d been enamoured, and that only increased when she introduced herself last summer at a company mixer. It broke Clarke’s heart when a beautiful girl put her arm around Lexa’ waist and earned a kiss on her temple.

But Costia was gone a month later, and Clarke invited Lexa for drinks and heard the entire sordid details. She didn’t mean to, but she fell for the honesty and the simple kind of confusion behind the lawyer’s break up, how Lexa was pure and hurt and just wanted to be happy, truly happy, like she hadn’t for longer than she could admit.

Now, she had this girl who brought her lunch and drinks, and Clarke hated that damn smirk. In a good way.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I have a lot of edits for my proposal that got shot down,” Clarke answered.

“But I brought you a drink.”

“I have to finish this.”

“It tastes like it can remove paint,” Lexa wiggled the cup before handing it to the girl at the desk. “But it’ll make you forget you have work to do.”

“You’re a terrible saleswoman.”

“That’s why I’m a lawyer.”

Clarke sipped it as Lexa took a generous swig of her second round. Watching her over the rim of the cup, she couldn’t help but smile to herself.

“What did you get for Christmas?”

“A plant.”

“Have you ever owned a plant?” Clarke chuckled.

“Never.”

“You should go back. I’ll meet you in a bit.”

“You’re like the only person I like here, and I think you should come join the festivities.”

“I don’t know if I’m dressed for the occasion,” she grinned after another sip of the strong drink, eyeing the sweater.

“You look great. You always look great,” Lexa confessed.

Clarke paused and looked away, blushing slightly before she looked at the work stacked on her desk. She looked back at Lexa and crumbled like she always did.

“Fine,” she sighed and stood up. “But just for a little bit.”

“That’s what you think, but okay.”

“So I want to see this plant you got. I can’t imagine your office with a plant. It’s so neat and organized.”

“I can’t choose my secret santa. But if you’d like, I’ll show you.”

“This really isn’t as strong as you said,” Clarke decided as they made their way down the hall.

“Just wait. It hits you.”

“Okay, right here,” Lexa stopped Clarke before they made it to the party.

“What?”

“My present. Also a present for you.”

Perplexed, Clarke furrowed before following Lexa’s eyeline to the top of the door where little green leaves and white berries hung.

“Well, would you look at that,” Clarke smiled as she looked up slightly. “Mistletoe.”

“What do you know?” Lexa blushed, attempting to look innocent and failing ever so miserably at the charade. She pushed the glasses up on the bridge of her nose and gulped.

“Pretty sneaky.”

“Seemed like a good plan.”

For a second, Clarke grinned and nodded before looking up once more at the decoration. In the history of all work Christmas parties, she’d been certain the HR nightmare of Mistletoe had been banned, or at least, she’d been insanely successful at avoiding it. Now, she was finally there, and the world was different.

With a resigned stiffening of her spine, Clarke nodded to herself once more before leaning slightly toward the girl who got her under the mistletoe. Lexa grew redder around the cheeks.

“It’s just a kiss, right?” Clarke asked, her voice a little too serious, a little too honest, a little too laden with the influence of the hearty drink she got at the bar.

“I don’t know,” Lexa confessed, unable to move, to lean, to close any of the distance as much as she wanted.

“It’s something.”

“Here goes nothing.”

She had one shot, and she knew it, and so Lexa summoned everything she had, everything she could to battle down the nagging kind of thoughts that it was a mistake, that she would ruin everything, that fear that she would be left heartbroken, that she’d built this stupid kiss into something else, that idea that a kiss, a single, nondescript kiss could set forth the great wheels of time and fate.

It was a lot of battling, and it took a bit, but she did valiantly, which resulted in a stutter, a moment in which she ran her fingertips along Clarke’s cheeks, to her neck, to her chin, where her eyes followed until they got stuck on those lips. The battle raged in those moments, but luckily for her, Clarke was a much better warrior, capable of slaying her dragons, or perhaps controlling them better.

Kissed and left completely unable to partake in higher level brain functions, Lexa froze before relaxing into the kiss.

Far from simple and far from nondescript, it felt like what anyone could hope to experience one day, what she wished for the world, and her knuckles grew white clutching at Clarke’s sweater, while she felt the weight of fingertips on her own, hanging on the hem.

Politely they got to the point at which a polite kiss would politely end, as if testing themselves. Lexa nudged Clarke’s nose and chased it right out of the town limits of polite, and properly into the next county over at more-than-friendsville. It was the greatest thing anyone could hope to do, to drag a kiss like that into a car chase that broke the daytime soaps, but she was off to the races.

“Pretty sneaky,” Clarke swallowed, pulling away to catch her breath, her hand moving to Lexa’s chest where it rested flat, keeping her at an arm’s length to allow breathing, while at the same time not letting go. “Kissing me like that.”

“I’m full of good ideas today.”

“Got any more?”

Lexa didn’t speak, didn’t trust herself to do it. Instead, she nodded and took Clarke’s hand, pulling her out of the building completely.


	8. Day 8- Ark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday prompt: Clarke and Lexa on the Ark christmas!

The night was deep and dark aboard the Ark. Spinning quietly, the only real remnants of crew was the night staff coming on their rotation. Deep in the bay, the faint noises of the last worker echoed in the empty, quiet room.

Well after her schedule time, Lexa finally finished a few touches on her extracurricular activities. Exhausted after putting more on her workload after her normal amount of work in the mechanic shop, she pushed to get as much done as she could before being unable to function, and dragged herself toward her apartment.

“Hey, I’m home,” Lexa called as she wiped her hand across her shirt leaving a trail of grease across it as she grabbed a cup and poured herself a glass of water.

“In here,” Clarke called from the small bedroom off from the tiny living room.

Meant to be a singular unit, their little apartment was all that they wanted, all that they needed, and coming home, to their little slice of space, was always a welcomed feeling to Lexa. Even her parent’s never felt like home, not even after eighteen years. Too strict, too convinced that Lexa was throwing her life away working in the metal shop when she was destined to lead like them, a presence in Polaris, a voice among their ranks. Lexa was a traitor to them, to her people, to fall in love with the blonde princess from the Third Station, it was all too much for them, and left her feeling homeless, until this place, this tiny cubicle that held the most happy memories. 

“You keep looking like that and I’m never going to work again,” Lexa grinned, leaning against the door, surveying the display in the bed.

“That’s the point,” Clarke grinned, putting the book down on her chest, purposefully moving naked leg a little more from under the sheet. “You worked late again.”

“Repairs on Eleven,” she hummed, leaning her head against the door as well.

A long, torturous leg shifted, spread, and Lexa was gone, renewed. The bed took up most of the room, in fact, all of the room, but that was well enough worth it. Messy blonde hair and that coquettish smile, Clarke took her breath away just like that first day of year ten when the schools were integrated.

“Go change.”

“Let me just look at you.”

Rolling her eyes, Clarke made a face at her before picking up her book again.

“How was work?”

“It was alright. Same old,” Lexa shrugged, leaving her water beside the bed before pulling off her shirt and tossing it into a pile. “Yours?”

From the bed, even though she picked up the book, Clarke snuck glances, watching her girlfriend’s back flex with each movement. The ink rippled there, one of the few memories of her life in Polaris.

Many an evening was spent touching that back, memorizing the ink in the dark. 

“There’s a cold going around, and the pre school kids had a few of their group in getting looked at,” Clarke listed absently, watching her girlfriend clean up in the bathroom. “And, I… we…” she swallowed, biting her lip as her eyes slid lower, to the dimples at the end of Lexa’s back, just below the tattoo. “Um. I brought you a sandwich home for dinner.”

It took a few minutes, but Lexa cleaned up as best she could and turned off the lights before flopping down on the bed. With a small growl, she closed her eyes and tilted her head toward her girlfriend’s leg, rubbing her cheek against her calf.

Clarke smiled into her book and enjoyed the feeling of the warmth of another body in the bed.

“You’re reading that again?”

“‘Tis the season.”

Calloused fingertips ran along her leg while lips joined a lazy rail over her knee. A cold nose dug into her thigh while the sheet got togged and shifted, tangling them up together.

“We don’t have seasons,” Lexa reminded her. “Every December you get into this mood.”

“What mood?”

“Christmas mood,” she snorted, rolling over Clarke’s legs, pushing up shorts, kissing her thigh. She wormed her way under the book, taking up residence near her chest. “You get obsessed with that holiday.”

“No one celebrates it, but it sounds so wonderful,” she sighed. “Listen to this: Several days of unusually mild weather fitly ushered in a splendid Christmas Day. The Unquenchables had done their best to be worthy of the name, for like elves they had worked by night and conjured up a comical surprise. Out in the garden stood a stately snow maiden, crowned with holly, bearing a basket of fruit and flowers in one hand, a great roll of music in the other, a perfect rainbow of an Afghan round her chilly shoulders, and a Christmas carol issuing from her lips on a pink paper streamer.”

“That book makes you cry every time,” Lexa hummed, resting her cheek against the warm fabric of Clarke’s shirt.

“Can you imagine snow? The cold? Lights on trees and just this feeling of goodness?”

“It sounds nice.”

“It does,” Clarke sighed, shifting her hips slightly, absently, already accustomed to being a pillow for her girlfriend. She ran her hands through Lexa’s hair dreamily, not paying much attention to the contented sigh that she earned there.

“Read a little for me?”

“I already did.”

“Please?”

“What would you want for Christmas?” Clarke asked, letting the book drop to her chest as she looked down that girl curled up like a kitten around her waist and thigh. With a yawn, Lexa dug into the sheet deeper and kissed hip. She was a goner to the moment.

“What would I want an imaginary, fat, elderly man to place beneath a rotting tree that I’ve put candy and popcorn and created a fire hazard in my home?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing,” she hummed. “This is all I want, and I already have it.”

Clarke opened her mouth to argue, but she couldn’t do it. Instead, she closed it and looked more fondly at the tired girl in her bed, and played with her hair a little more before picking up her book again.

* * *

“I woke up and it was Christmas,” Clarke realized, hugging Lexa’s neck tightly. “How in the world…”

“Santa helped.”

“Did he?”

“No,” Lexa laughed. “I did it all. My snowflakes got better with practice. At first they were terrible. I put those ones in the back.”

“I love you.”

“I know,” she shrugged, kissing the sleepy doctor once again.

“Merry Christmas.”


	9. Day 9- Snowed In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snowed in.

Deep in the mountains, the storm approached quickly, blustering against every nook and crevice, attacking the world with a malicious kind of cold that could only be described as absolutely painful. The inhabitants did the best they could, leaving for airports early, attaching snow tires and fleeing to lower elevations, but by the time the evening rolled around, and Main Street was a ghost town, there was no possible way anyone else was leaving, and all that remained were those who knew how to weather such storms.

Lexa warmed her hands by blowing in them, the weight of the fact that she drew the short straw weighing on her as some of the last set of brake lights disappeared toward the highway.

The street was empty as the snow came down, blurring out anything over two blocks away.

Very alone, Lexa stood in the middle of the Main Street intersection and looked around at her adopted town. The lights from the decorations were spotty, some left on while other whole storefronts were left completely dark, and it seemed about right. The officer loved the holiday, loved the idea of a white Christmas, but now she was stranded, away from her family, and she just sighed, her breath making a cloud in the air, tucked her hands under her arms, and made her way to the only open place in town.

Completely empty, the diner was almost quiet except for the low hum of Christmas music coming from the radio on the counter. Lexa pulled off her hat and set it on the counter before pulling off her gloves and trying to thaw.

Like so many times before, she found herself smiling as a familiar blonde appeared, unaware of her entry. Quietly, the waitress sang to herself, following along with the music in a pretty little voice.

Three years, Lexa lived and worked in the small town, and three years, she’d been enamored with the waitress. She let herself melt a little before clearing her throat.

“Hey,” Clarke looked up quickly as she wiped down an empty coffee maker. “The streets all clear, officer?”

“Of people, yes,” she nodded, taking her usual seat at the counter. “Of snow? Not so much.”

“Don’t you have a flight to catch?”

“There’s no way I’d make it off the mountain in this,” she shrugged sadly. “It’s okay.”

“Really?”

“No, but oh well. Jeffery’s little girl had the flu, and Morris’ parents are older, and needed help. I drew the short straw.”

“Drawing straws means you had a chance. Sounds like you volunteered to stay.”

“Yeah,” she grinned, steeling herself for the lonely holiday.

Clarke watched her do it, watched her face change from an actual kind of sadness to a certain okayness with the situation as a mask atop it. She ran her hand along the counter and thought about it to herself, about how Lexa had been beaming, excitedly showing off pictures of her new niece and her nephews, and telling her about things her family liked to do for the holidays. And now that was out the window because of the storm.

“Well, seeing as you’re the last customer in town, how about I make us some dinner and you can warm up, and we’ll lament together.”

“I don’t know about lament,” Lexa shrugged, looking up from beneath her lashes in a way that Clarke was certain she had to know what she was doing. “But dinner wouldn’t hurt.”

“Even better.”

* * *

There were moments of which Lexa almost forgot her circumstances and enjoyed herself. It was hard to fight against it when Clarke smiled at her from behind the counter, and made her laugh with terrible movie summaries. It all was a pleasant way to spend an evening while the world outside turned into a snow globe scene.

Inches fell in just an hour, and a foot already well accumulated at her entrance, the town would be a different world in the dawn.

“Once you get the title of the Cool Aunt, you just don’t want to lose it,” Lexa explained as Clarke took her plate and set it on the window.

“And how in the world did you get that title?” she teased.

“I’m a cop. And my car makes noises,” she shrugged. “But this year, my brother-in-law’s sister is going to be making a power grab for that title. She just got a new puppy.”

“That’s tough to compete with, though I’d say you’re a puppy in your own right.”

“I don’t think the kids agree.”

“I’m sure you’re still the Cool Aunt,” she promised, leaning against the counter again. Outside it was dark, lit only by the miniscule glow of storefront windows and displays. “I’m sorry you couldn’t get home.”

“This isn’t so bad.”

“I don’t think this compares to your Rockwellian Holiday plans,” Clarke sighed sadly.

“I don’t know about that. I mean, all I asked Santa for was to spend time with you, so I guess I won,” Lexa offered before clearing her throat. “What about your plans?”

“I didn’t have any. Just work.”

“Seriously?” the officer balked at the news.

“My dad died when I was a kid, and my mom is always on call. I don’t think we had a tree since like first grade.” Clarke continued to wipe up the counter before looking out the storefront once again, as long as it was anywhere but Lexa’s eyes. “It was never a big deal.”

“You need to be trained in the art of Christmas.”

“An art?”

“Don’t mock, that’s rule number one.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Clarke grinned, enjoying the peace together. “Have you seen your cruiser lately?”

“No, why?” Lexa asked, turning in the stool. “Oh crap.”

Completely buried and indiscernible from the other white blobs, there was no doubt that the snow shut everything down, and Lexa growled to herself, already freezing again at the idea of digging out her car.

“I literally just saw a plow about twenty minutes ago. You can barely tell.”

“It’s getting really bad out there. I should head out,” Lexa realized, resigning herself to her fate.

“Or you could stay with me,” Clarke offered, her lips moving before her brain could filter it. She surprised herself at the sounds it made, furrowing and attempting to look at her lips for the traitors they were.

“What?” Lexa asked, toying with her hat.

“It’s late. The roads are disasters, and your car is covered. Just stay with me, and we can deal with it tomorrow. I have space. My apartment is reasonably clean.”

“Well, I was doubting it until you said reasonably clean, but that put me over the edge.”

“I mean it. It’s dangerous out there.”

“It would give me time to get you excited about Christmas,” Lexa reasoned with herself.

“Pretty sure this is the most Christmas, Christmas I’ve had,” Clarke decided, continuing to clean up as Lexa took her seat again. “Weary traveller with no place to stay, offering up a warm couch when no one else will.”

“I’m not pregnant.”

“Thank goodness,” she chuckled. “Just give me a few minutes to close up.”

Anxious, Lexa let the nerves develop the more she worked it over in her head, that she would be going to Clarke’s, spending the night there with her, and that she was literally trapped by a storm that was dropping not just inches, but multiple feet upon her town.

She watched the waitress move around, looked away from her hips, kicked herself for catching her eyes. It was going to be a long night, and she needed all forms of a Christmas Miracle to not make a fool of herself.

* * *

“Just… give me three minutes, and then come in,” Clarke muttered as she put the key in the lock and used her shoulder to nudge it a bit, the old wood sticking in the chill of the late night.

Tucked on the third floor of the walk up from the diner, her apartment meant trudging through only two feet of snow to get to, and was a much better alternative than Lexa’s house across town. Yet, the longer she thought about it, the more nervous she became at the idea of having the cop in her home. Their friendship had been predicated on not getting too close because they were constantly on the cusp of unsaid words, and now this was just too much.

And her bras were hanging in the shower, she remembered when they made it to the second floor.

“You really don’t have to worry. I’m not going to judge your cleanli–”

“Hey, I promised reasonably clean. Would your place pass if I was just to show up right now?” Guilty and knowing it, Lexa sighed and smiled, caught in the knowledge. “That’s what I thought. Just a quick sweep through to protect the image you have of me.”

“Fine.”

“Three minutes,” she reminded Lexa before disappearing into the apartment.

Truth be told, three minutes was needed, and Lexa didn’t know it until she got the quiet, alone time. Still in uniform, she fretted over herself before pacing toward the window at the landing, allowing the tundra outside to distract her from the cascade of thoughts that pummeled her brain just as hard as the weather.

It was a Christmas Eve to remember, that was certain.

Three minutes passed, and still Lexa waited. She ran her hand along her neck and paced once more across the hall. There were looks, sometimes, that Clarke gave her, that made her think that–

“Okay, there we go,” Clarke stuck her head out. “Thanks for waiting. Come in. Welcome to my little… home.”

“This is beyond kind of you,” the cop insisted again,

“It’s really nothing,” she shooed the words away. “Seriously. Not one ounce of extra work needed.”

Lexa nodded politely and fiddled with her hat again, frozen like a statue by the door, slowly attempting to look around, though unable to really look for fear of making Clarke uncomfortable, to be seen as such.

“Quick tour?” Clarke offered, clapping her hands together.

There wasn’t much to the loft, all one big room and pretty easy to discern what was what, but Lexa nodded and accepted the offer to ease the nerves that somehow rattled the naturally easy demeanor the two had with each other.

“Sure.”

“Bedroom,” she pointed towards the bed against one wall. “Bathroom is through there. The kitchen. Couch.”

“Detailed tour.”

“There’s not much to it,” Clarke shrugged. The stood in the quiet, looking around, as if both were knew to the space. “I pulled out some clothes for you. So you don’t have to sleep in your uniform.”

“Thank you.”

“You can change… in there,” she pointed towards the door. “I’ll just… get the couch ready.”

Unsure of what was happening, Clarke watched Lexa smile quickly and nod, leaving her hat on the table and moving toward the bathroom. When it closed, she exhaled and shook her head.

Behind the door, Lexa did the same, she gave herself a second before finding herself in the mirror and splashing a little water on her face.

It took a few minutes, but Lexa finally emerged, clad in Clarke’s sweatpants and her own undershirt. It felt weird, to be in someone else’s clothes, but she didn’t mind as much as she thought she would.

“You look significantly more cozy,” Clarke greeted her from behind the island in the kitchen.

“Thanks. I feel better.”

“So…”

“So…”

“This feels weird. We’re friends, right?”

“I like to think so.”

“Alright, then we can hang out.”

“We can,” Lexa agreed.

“Do you drink?”

“I’ve been known to drink a bit,” she chuckled at the relief that appeared on Clarke’s face.

“Well,” the waitress smiled, digging into a cabinet. “Let me share one of my favorite Christmas traditions.”

* * *

“Seriously?” Lexa laughed, the tips of her ears burning as they finished the second bottle of wine between them.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Just hard to imagine you, in scrubs.”

“It’s true,” Clarke sighed and held the wine glass to her chest. “I was in my second year of residency, and I realized I just couldn’t do it. I was in the hospital one minute, the next I packed up my car and drove, and I have no idea what happened between those two facts, but that’s how it happened.”

“What made you do it?”

“I was just surrounded by people who ared, and tried, and worked very hard, and I did not have half of the dedication they did. It wasn’t my life’s work, and I’d been burying it deep down, until I couldn’t.”

“Wow.”

“It’s like you though,” she shrugged and tucked her legs a little closer to her. “You love what you do.”

“I didn’t think I signed up to be a traffic cop, but most of the time I do,” Lexa agreed.

“You want to go back to the city?”

“Sometimes,” Lexa realized, her tongue looser because of the wine. “I’m not my dad though. He was… there is a legend about him, and that’s a lot to have, you know, wear the same name on my badge.”

“Yeah, I definitely get that,” Clarke smiled. Her fingers migrated to Lexa’s knee where they rubbed soothing circles before she could recognize it. Like a movie in which she as watching and not participating, she saw it and didn’t stop. “I haven’t spoken to my mom since I left.”

“She took it hard.”

“How did your dad take it when you decided to start out on your own instead of following in his footsteps?”

The eyes were innocent and interested, and Lexa shrank.

“I see your point,” she relented.

A movie played almost quietly on the television while they spoke, both in different forms of swaddled in the collection of blankets Clarke brought out for the makeshift bed on the couch. Lexa relaxed and let her cheek rest against the back of the couch while she watched Clarke take another sip of her wine.

“So now you just get drunk and watch shitty TV movies on Christmas?” Lexa asked.

“And hope that a pretty cop gets stuck in town and can stay at my house.”

“Happen often?”

“First year. Not opposed to this tradition though,” she grinned, coy and knowledgeable.

* * *

The movie somehow bled into another, though the plots lent little to discern them from each other, so that it could have been a five hour epic in which multiple women have multiple problems and are saved with the holiday spirit. Lexa didn’t much care.

Somehow she had her hands touching the bare skin of Clarke’s back, and somehow she had the same Clarke atop her, kissing her like time didn’t exist and she could take the entire universe to do it. And she did. Long, drawn out, lazy, wine-fueled kisses that were in direct opposition to the forceful grinding of her hips.

As if woken from a dream, Lexa realized it was happening. Somewhere after it began, for however long it’d been going on, she realized it, and she ran her hand along ribs beneath the warm shirt and she hummed to herself.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, and the car was well hidden enough, the plows made another pass, creating mountains on street corners, and not a creature was stirring except for Clarke’s hand in the waist of her sweatpants.

“Are you sure?” Lexa pulled away slightly. Her hands moved to Clarke’s ass and held her hips closer.

“Am I sure that I want to do naughty things to you right here on the couch?” she asked, grinning wickedly.

“We’ve been drinking.”

“Do you want to?”

“So bad,” Lexa confessed with a exhale.

“Merry Christmas to me,” Clarke murmured before kissing neck. Lexa only moaned.

* * *

The smell of coffee woke her, and the noises that came with it gradually seeped into her senses. Digging her face into the pillow, Lexa complained slightly about the cold and the hour.

It took a few more minutes, but she heard the space heater get turned up, and she heard a bit more shuffling. Her brain worked in double time to remember it all, and it did, it savored every noise and shift and kiss and Lexa was tangled in it.

“Coming up for air anytime soon?” Clarke asked, lifting the giant mound of blankets that covered Lexa’s face.

“That’s not what you said last night.”

“Good to know.”

“What’s that?” she winced, sitting up and running her hand over her eyes, squinting against the brilliant light coming in from the windows.

“You’re sassy in the morning before coffee.”

“I’m never sassy.”

Grateful, Lexa accepted the cup and smiled as she sipped it, already prepared like she liked it. It warmed her chest and the sight of a half naked girl warmed the rest of her.

“Morning,” Clarke kissed her temple before walking away from the couch once again. “You slept alright?”

“Yeah. I was a bit tired.”

“Looks like you might be snowed it today,” Clarke smiled, surveying the street below, still laden with snow and with little need for workers on the holiday.

“I think I can be okay with that,” Lexa whispered, wrapping her hands around Clarke’s hips. She kissed the neck that was presented to her. “Merry Christmas.”


	10. Day 10- Terminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> maybe a christmas from one of your universes?

The house had been quiet for too long, but Clarke savored it while she could. The baby finally napped in the pack’n’play in the living room, cast in the glowing lights of the Christmas tree and decorations, and the babysitter took the time to clean up what she could, shoving toys back into the bag Marshall left. The forecast called for snow, and the street was almost waiting for it.

It was almost impossible for Clarke to keep the house clean with her tornado of a girlfriend. Between her and the entire clan of a family showing up at all hours, it was a losing battle, and so for the evening, Clarke let it go, flopping onto the couch with a hint of a yawn.

Somewhere between the news and the journal she’d been meaning to read for work, she dozed off as well, the fire lulling her to give into the exhaustion she carried from the last few long shifts.

The first holiday in their new home was a full time job, it felt. Lexa took it upon herself to welcome the season, in ways that Clarke never expected. It was always a tradition in her family, the soldier explained, and no matter the city, they had traditions. Clarke just rode the wave and hoped to mitigate the damage as best she could. 

She went to work one day, and Santa threw up on her house. The tree out front was done up with lights and bows. Reindeer grazed on the front lawn, and Lexa was up on a ladder with Marshall holding it and lights were being tacked in along the roof over the porch. That was the day Clarke realized that she was in over her head once again.

And when she walked inside after offering the two a warning, she walked back outside once again, because the mess of bulbs and a tree and all else was too much for her to handle.

It was only a blink of a nap, but the noise from the kitchen woke her. The baby slept despite it, accustomed to her father’s antics.

She blinked a few times as she woke. The fire dwindled and the stockings hung atop it.

“Seriously?”

“We needed them.”

“Seriously Lexa?” Clarke surveyed the table and the half open boxes of Christmas lights and decorations on the kitchen table. Bags were added to the pile as Marshall came in again through the

“This is the last bit.”

“I’ve heard that before,” the doctor put her hands on her hips and saw the puppy eyes formed, knowing full well that she was not going to complain too much. “We don’t need anymore lights.”

“Did you see what house down the block?”

“It looked very nice.”

“It has more lights than us.”

“It’s not a competition, honey,” she shook her head.

“Tell her, Marsh.”

“We kind of take these things seriously,” the twin insisted.

“Don’t encourage her,” Clarke complained, completely beaten by the siblings currently taking up strategic planning in her kitchen. “Are you staying for dinner? Your kid is asleep in the living room.”

“We have to get home. I’m going to get in trouble for messing up her nap schedule.”

“Don’t be mad,” Lexa mumbled, hobbling toward her fiancée. “It’s just a few more.”

Clarke melted against arms and lips against her shoulder. There was no fighting it. There never was, and she didn’t know what to do, she didn’t care.

“No more after this.”

“I got those gingerbread dishcloths you liked.”

“I mean it,” Clarke insisted, leaning back against those arms.

“You look beautiful today.”

“Stop.”

“Yeah, stop,” Marshall agreed, making a face. “Always so gross.”

“Better get out of here soon. I’m going to get handsy in the kitchen,” Lexa warned.

“There is a kid present,” he gasped, pretend upset at the display. “I’ll see you tomorrow to put these up.”

“Thanks.”

Lips moved to her neck and a hand slid up her side as the other twin moved to the living room to gather the toddler.

“No more lights,” Clarke mumbled again.

“Our first Christmas in this place. I want to make a statement.”

“Our electric bill is going to be the statement.”

“Next year we get the inflatables.”

* * *

The table was set. Candles burned away, towering over plates and bowls full of food that filled the house with smells and spices and warmth that were all historically significant, like sensory implants in her memory. But this year was different, and though the pattern on the plates was the familiar hollies and ribbons, was ancient, though the chairs and table were set in all the familiar ways, though the house was filled with the same cooing babies and running kids and bickering adults and bursts of raucous laughter, Lexa knew this year was different. It was the first in which she would leave the house, with a bit of wine on her lips, and a beautiful doctor, to go back to their own home, all lit up like it was daylight. 

“I mashed those myself,” Clarke leaned over as Lexa added food to her plate, the bowls swirling around the table like a whirlpool.

“You know what? I’m sick of this,” Lexa put the bowl down. “Sick of you making these delicious mashed potatoes and then telling me you can’t cook when we get home.”

“Stop it.”

“I mean it. This is ridiculous. I starve, all year, get one good meal per day.”

“I don’t think you’re starving,” Betty interrupted her daughter’s dramatic tirade.

“I’m just saying. I would like some Christmas mashed potatoes, not on Christmas. I’m a simple girl.”

“Look what I have to deal with.”

“Full time,” Lexa grinned, kissing her fiancée’s cheek.

The annual Christmas Eve dinner continued, growing loud and full. Kids ran around as they finished their own, while the adults enjoyed each other. Clarke grew to love it, the large family. It was still a lot to handle. Her phone was still full of group messages, she still got nervous to help babysit. But she was growing to understand it.

The holiday season always turned into a marathon that Clarke only knew how to sprint through, so that by the time they reached this dinner, she was damn near exhausted. But the reward was going home and having her own traditions with Lexa, and that was enough to help her brave the family storm.

The general murmuring of the table continued. Lexa watched Clarke argue with Marshall about something, watched her ask Sarah about the pregnancy, answered her questions, and generally laugh with her family. It made her fill with something, something unfamiliar to see it, but sitting at the adult table felt different, felt good, with Clarke there.

The plates were full and then emptied, the laughter following similar ebbing and flowing. Clarke rubbed Lexa’s neck and leaned back against her own chair, sipping the wine she was afraid of enjoying too much. But bottles accumulated and glasses kept filling and it was nice. The table was cleared and dessert filled it again. Kids fell asleep in front of Christmas movies in the basement while the babies fell asleep, draped over shoulders and despite the noise, with everyone’s bellies full and utterly content to be warm and inside.

“This is nice,” Teddy observed from the head of the table. The table quieted slightly and looked towards him.

Lexa shared a look with Clarke and settled back in her chair slightly. The doctor leaned against her side when she put her arm around her shoulder.

The annual celebration continued, and Clarke got sucked into the Woods’ dinner as she always did. And she helped with the dishes, and she made plans, and she finally managed to pull herself away and escape with her girl.

“This is nice,” Lexa mimicked, finally on her own couch.

Clarke changed upstairs and returned to the living room to find the fire stoked and the lights dimmed. It was every Christmas she could have wanted.

“You think so?” Clarke asked, straddling the girl on the couch.

“This is really nice,” she nodded.

“You’re not going to start making a speech are you?”

“Not with you looking like that.”

She hovered, Clarke toyed with her before gently kissing the lips attached to the outstretched and eager neck. She felt the hands slide up her back and pull her closer, and she grinned at herself

“Thank you,” the doctor paused, pushing aside the hair that fell in Lexa’s face.

“For what?”

“For buying me a drink in the airport.”


	11. Day 11- Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you’re not to busy, Id love to see thanksgiving turn into a series. Jake definitely confronting Clarke before she leaves after thanksgiving because he knows she wasnt entirely truthful about hers & lexas relationship but he definitely approves of Lexa & he & Abby invite her back for Christmas & kinda force her into agreeing in that way parents do, without even consulting Clarke. & then getting to see their relationship grow through the different holidays. Christmas, New Years, Mardi Gras, etc

The salt kicked up in the traffic, through the slush of the dingy snow that remained on the highway while the fields and town itself was covered in the purest kind of precipitation that added to the picturesque feeling of the season. Yards were adorned with reindeer and santa’s and wishings for good tidings, while the town was wrapped up like a present, ribbons on street signs and wreaths on every door available. 

By the time they made it to the center of town, with the larger than life Christmas tree and equally generous menorah in the center of the roundabout, Lexa could really sense the shift in her somewhat real girlfriend. Nerves took over on the highway, but became apparent as they moved through the streets of her childhood, and Lexa found it adorable. 

“I think we forgot my dad’s present,” Clarke decided as they slowed to a stop at the sign. 

“I packed all of the presents. They’re in that box in the back,” Lexa rolled her eyes. 

“I forgot your present.”

“You can give it to me when we get back.” 

“We can go get it and try again tomorrow,” she countered. 

Not a car held them up, not any bit of traffic could be found at the intersection, but still they sat there, waiting for it all to pass. Lexa waited and then looked at Clarke when they didn’t move. 

“What’d you get me?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Liar. I saw the package with the others.” 

“It’s only been a month, and I know you’ve already been here, but I’m actually bringing someone home,” she realized, gripping the wheel tightly. “I’ve never brought anyone home before.” 

“Nothing is different from last month.” 

“It is,” Clarke sighed, shoulders slumping with the release. “It is for some reason.” 

Lexa pondered her words and waited for any inspiration, but she knew Clarke well enough by now to know that there were just moments when she was so locked in her own head, it would be impossible to get her out. It was endearing at the best times, exhausting at the worst, but she was never boring, and Lexa was addicted to the things that came out of her mouth. She wasn't’ certain she’d ever met anyone as honest as Clarke. 

“How about we go and see what happens, since we made it so close anyway.”

“Yeah, okay,” the driver agreed. 

Clarke looked both ways, down the long, empty street that already had the lights flickering on in the early winter evening. Children played in yards, snowmen sagged on the edges of properties in various forms of dress and costume. The decorations began to light themselves as the times all clicked so close it was like a bit of magic. 

“Would it help if I pretended to be your fake girlfriend again?” Lexa offered, half serious with the notion. 

“Maybe.” 

“Clarke, I’m kidding.” 

“Yeah, no, me too,” she added quickly as she turned off the car. 

“Listen, I’m your real girlfriend now, and I shut your mom down a few times with her comments, but let her step just one toe over the line, and man, it’s going to be… just…” she waved her hands passionately to prove her point. “It’s going to be a rumble!” 

Despite herself, Clarke smiled at her antics and the fervency to her words. Probably never in a fight in her life, and with a voice that Clarke could never imagine over the solid, stoic tone that it always had, Lexa was far from convincing, however the idea that she was ready for battle was enough, gave her a significant boost she didn’t think possible or needed as badly. 

“Yeah, come as my real girlfriend please,” she smiled, leaning over the console between them before kissing the lawyer politely in the glow of her father’s multi-colored light display that irked her mother to no end. 

“Remember when I answered a tweet and then somehow ended up dating you?” 

“Vaguely.” 

“What a first date,” Lexa sighed, kissing her again, long since distracted from her momentary burst of feistiness. 

The lights were in full effect as they pulled into the driveway. Beaming at his display, Jake tinkered in the yard, making sure everything was festive. Decked in all of the colors, with every inch of roof covered, the trees were glowing as well. 

“It looks good, Dad,” Clarke smiled in the cold as the sun set quickly. 

“Hey, kiddo,” he returned it, hugging her tightly after brushing his hands off on his pants. “Good trip up?” 

“Not terrible,” she lied. 

“Good to see you again, Lexa,” he shook Lexa’s hand.

“You put on quite the display, Mr. Griffin.” 

“It’s the best time of the year,” he nodded, surveying it all. “Let me help you guys.” 

“He just wants to peak at the presents,” Clarke sighed. 

Guilty and happy, the father shrugged as he helped unload the truck and helping them inside. 

Lexa didn’t know how to tell Clarke that she liked visiting her parents and the house. Walking in just reminded her of her own home for the holidays, as if her parents were there, were waiting, and it was new and great, a feeling she hadn’t had in a long time. 

The warmth rubbed their raw faces as they made it inside and Jake bellowed for his wife. As Lexa unwrapped her scarf, she earned a smile from Clarke, and she knew years down the road, she would have to one day tell this girl that she fell in love with her right there for no damn reason at all.

* * *

“That’s not true!” Clarke snorted, laughing into her wine glass. 

The telltale signs of a good night were on her face– the blush to her cheeks in the warmth of the fire and the dining room, the slight unruliness to her hair, the way her voice carried. Lexa had not seen drunk Clarke often, but she was enjoying it very much right now. 

“Huge crush on her,” Raven teased. “You should have seen it. She volunteered every chance to help Ms. Carnahan.” 

“Hot for teacher, babe?” Lexa teased, wiggling her eyebrows as she sipped her beer bottle. 

“No! I was not,” she protested, the blush creeping up her neck. “Raven is making it up.”

“I have to see Carol at the board meetings for the Children’s Foundation,” Abby groaned, pouring herself more wine. 

“Have less attractive friends, Mom,” Clarke shrugged, leaning back in her chair, earning another groan from the mother. 

The table erupted in debates and arguments and another round of food and cards, with a few familiar faces Lexa recognized from Thanksgiving. Chairs were pulled up and the table brimming with people, the evening got away from them, following their first day in the hometown. 

Lexa didn’t mind being swept up like she found herself. Running before everyone woke, she got herself lost deep in the neighborhood and eventually came out near a high school before she had to map herself back home, where she returned, huffing and puffing and just in time to get breakfast made for her by her doting girlfriend. It was just a bunch of boring errands after that, and she wasn’t bothered by anything else for the rest of the day as different members arrived and dinner became an affair. 

“You look really good,” Clarke whispered, leaning into Lexa’s cheek. Her lips touched her ear as she giggled slightly. 

Lexa gulped and stared at her lips, in love with the way they smiled, knowing full well what they did to her. 

“I mean, you look like you taste really good,” she amended. 

Everyone else was distracted, and Lexa was grateful because her mouth went dry and she gulped the rest of her beer. 

“That must be good wine.” 

“It is. can I get you another beer? 

“I don’t know. I’m getting a little tired.” The look she gave wasn’t particularly exhausted, and Clarke caught the drift of it easily. Lexa watched her look around the table before frowning slightly. 

“We can’t go upstairs yet. Everyone is still here.” 

“Then stop teasing me.” 

“I’ll reward you,” Clarke promised, kissing her temple as she got up and made her way to the kitchen. 

Blood thumping through her cheeks, the Christmas season felt good, and Lexa wanted some of whatever Clarke was drinking. 

“You had to have some crushes on teachers, too, right Lexa?” Raven asked, wiping her cheeks from laughing. 

“I’ve only ever had a crush on one teacher.” 

“Do tell.” 

“She wasn’t even my teacher.” 

“Even better.” 

“Ms. Griffin,” Lexa grinned, taking the bottle that her girlfriend handed her. “How could you not have a crush on her?” 

“Gag me,” the friend complained as the rest of the table tossed napkins and pretzels at the couple. “That’s cheating. Tell the truth.” 

“That’s the truth.” 

“It’s the truth,” Clarke interjected. “Lexa and a dozen eight year old boys.” 

“Maybe a few little girls. You could be the moment they look back on and go, yeah, sounds about right,” Abby reminded her. “I’ll never forget when you came home and told me you had a girlfriend in fourth grade.” 

“Quite an early bloomer,” Lexa chuckled. 

The cards were dealt again, and everyone else added their own stories of first loves and early crushes. 

“You’re really good at this,” Clarke whispered, playing with Lexa’s knee under the table. 

“At what?” 

“Being my girlfriend.”

“Nothings changed. And you’re still bad at trying to cheat and look at my cards.” 

“I like you.” 

“Come on or I’m separating you two!” Raven growled. 

“I’m trying to charm my lady.”

“See, I taught her things,” Jake nudged his wife who simply shook her head and rolled her eyes. In that moment, Lexa could see a bit of her future.

* * *

There seemed to be a never ending list of Christmas parties that Abby concocted to drag the entire family along. Jake and Clarke noticeably objected, complaining and growling while Lexa followed along, enjoying herself immensely. 

But the night before the night before Christmas, Clarke put her foot down and told her mother that she had a few traditions she wanted to share with Lexa that weren’t at the Chief of Surgery’s annual Christmas bash. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never see this,” Clarke observed, sharing a festive cookie, breaking off the end of a snowman’s hat and sharing the bottom half with her girlfriend. 

“We only watched the classic classics. Nothing new.” 

“This is all I want from the holidays.” 

“A quiet home and a couch with a blanket?” Lexa asked, burrowing deeper into the blanket they shared. 

The television played the movie while the Christmas tree was the only light source in the quiet, empty house. The two took to the couch in their warm flannel pants and wool socks, and they enjoyed themselves in the quiet. 

“Yeah. That’s all I need.” 

“Simple girl for someone who had the internet fates find her a date.” 

“Worked out well enough.” 

Lexa smiled as the blonde leaned her head on her shoulder, as arms slid around her trunk and she put her arm around Clarke’s shoulder. They slid together, they leaned together as the movie happened until they were tucked against the couch and cozy. 

“What made you agree to go on a date with me?” Clarke asked, lifting her head in the middle of the song. 

“Adventure.” 

“Tell me the truth.” 

“I had nothing else to do.” 

“Lexa.” 

“A few glasses of wine.” 

“I mean it.” 

With a grown, Lexa stretched and squinted her face up with how good it felt. The body sandwiched between the back of the couch and herself, the one with its leg draped over her hip, the one with its arms wrapping around her and with its chin placed on her chest, wiggled closer. Her body relaxed against itself. 

“Anya said I was getting too good at being alone. I was hiding. And I should change it all up a bit,” she shrugged. “I don’t know what made me agree to Thanksgiving, but Anya had a hand in it. I don’t want to be alone.” 

Hand moved along her cheek and shoulder until Clarke kissed her jaw and burrowed into her neck once again. 

“Now you don’t have to be alone.” 

“Yeah. .And you get an impressive lawyer girlfriend to show off to your family.” 

“Yeah, that too.”

* * *

“It’s Christmas,” Clarke whispered, kissing neck and settling atop the sleeping girl i n her bed. 

No kids in the house, just the small family unit, and still, as a full-fledged adult, Clarke was the first one up, excited at the feeling of presents inevitably waiting under the tree, even without the pretense of a certain jolly invader of personal space. 

“Another hour,” Lexa yawned and tried to roll away, though it was no use against the will and determination of the girl who was first awake. “Please.” 

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” she sang quietly. “Everywhere you go.” 

“We’re staying in separate rooms next year.” 

“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart,” Clarke ignored her and cooed, kissing at her chin. 

“How many of those do you have?” Lexa growled, digging her head into the pillow. 

“Do you want to find out?” 

“I’m up, I’m up,” she yawned, running her hands over her face. “It’s like dating a five year old.” 

“It’s Christmas and there are presents. That’s all I need.” 

“I’m so tired.” 

“We nap after breakfast.” 

“Oh, there’s a schedule.” 

“Let’s go!” Clarke demanded, rolling over the groggy girl in the bed and tugging her arm until she sat up. She didn’t get far though, as Lexa tugged her back into the bed, swallowing her up and earning a laugh. “Presents, Lexa.” 

“I have something else I want to unwrap.” 

“Santa is watching.” 

“Listen, you don’t get to the naughty list by luck.” 

“Lexa!” Clarke giggled as her girlfriend woke up. It wasn’t much of a protest.

* * *

Christmas dinner was a much different affair than Thanksgiving. More wine, more earnestness, more polite conversations and the feeling of a warmth not just from the fireside or the candles, but from company. 

“I love this,” Clarke promised as Lexa fiddled with the new sweater her girlfriend got for her. Not Christmas themed, but very big and cozy, it was itchy in the way that love is itchy. 

“Me too. Means you hug me a lot more.” 

Clarke wrapped her arms around the girl who washed the dishes. She pressed her nose against the spine beneath the sweater 

“Thanks for coming home with me for Christmas.” 

“Thanks for inviting me.” 

“My mom invited you. We could have been in your house, pantless. That’s on you.” 

“Sign me up next year.” 

“Family movie night tonight. Do you know where my dad went?” 

“Garage.” 

“Of course.” 

Clarke let her hands linger on Lexa’s hips, kissed her shoulder and closed her eyes, for just a moment, to have a bit of Christmas captured there. Her mother approached and Clarke earned a smile before watching the two of them go to work on the rest of the dishes. 

For some reason, Abby looked at her daughter differently because of Lexa. Where once there was always an argument, always this kind of disappointment, but if a lowly teacher could get someone like that, someone who was polite and doting and smart, well she must have done something right. 

They talked about something or other, and it as lovely to see, made Clarke feel a little better about missing out on her pantless Christmas. 

“Hey, kid,” her father greeted, peering carefully at some contraption he was fixing. 

“Dishes are almost done. It’s movie night.” 

“Pull up a chair,” he nudged his head as she lingered by the door. 

Wrapping her arms around herself against the cold of the garage, Clarke rolled her eyes and approached. Her father was a simple man, mischievous, smart, a great balance to her mother.

“Haven’t got to see you much this visit. Did you and Lexa have fun with Raven?” 

“You know how it goes. Drinks and somehow we end up somewhere we never expected.” 

“Where was it this time?” he chuckled, soldering something. 

“There was a midnight showing of Miracle on 34th Street,” Clarke remembered, picking up a few tools and playing with them. “At the school.” 

“Sounds fun.” 

“Lexa never saw it, so it was. She’s like a kid who never had a Christmas like us. It’s fun.” 

“I like her.” 

“Me too.” 

“Can’t believe you can just order a girlfriend on Twitter,” he murmured, not looking up. Clarke froze and felt her heart stall. “I know how to use twitter, or do you forget that I follow you?” 

“I honestly did.” 

“She’s not here because you asked her, right?” 

“She’s here because Mom invited her,” Clarke corrected. 

“You know what I mean, kid. I worry about you, but I don’t want you to think that you need someone like an accessory.” 

“She’s here for me. We’re… it started out as a joke. And then I really like her.” 

“So it’s on the up and up.” 

“It never wasn’t.” 

“Can’t believe a girl agreed to come meet us and play along. She’s interesting.” 

“Does Mom know?” 

“Never.” 

“Hey, do you want cocoa?” Lexa slipped her head into the garage. “I’m learning how to make it properly, because apparently the microwave is incorrect.” 

“Microwave!” Jake balked. “What kind of woman did you tie yourself to, Clarke!?”

“We’d love some,” Clarke smiled at her girlfriend. “Learn it well, because I’ll expect it at home.” 

“This is why Abby sent me in here,” Lexa sighed and shook her head before disappearing. 

“I like her a lot,” Clarke smiled dreamily as she leaned her head on her palm.

* * *

Snug in her new pyjamas, Clarke played with the new necklace her girlfriend had given her, smiling to herself as the water was turned off in her bathroom. Clad in her own new flannel pyjamas, courtesy of the good doctor, the girlfriend ran her hand along her ribs and yawned. 

“Griffin Christmas traditions are exhausting,” Lexa decided, flopping down on the bed. Face down, she groaned into the pillow until Clarke rolled onto her back. She straddled her hips, earning a little moan. 

“i was serious about next year, about our own Christmas,” Clarke cooed, pressing herself against Lexa’s strong back. 

“You think you’ll keep me around that long?”

Clarke sat up and ran her hands along her girlfriend’s back, massaging the muscles there. Lexa moaned and would have agreed to anything. 

“I’m thinking I decorate your house until you cut me off from buying ornaments, and we go to your work Christmas party, and then mine, and we watch Christmas movies all Christmas Eve, and then no pants.” 

Each word was met with a purr and luxurious grabbing, relaxing the tenseness there. 

“I don’t know. I like these pants your mom got us.” 

“I liked the cocoa you made.”

“I did too. I could tell the difference.” 

“I have one more gift for you,” Clarke whispered, tugging up the shirt. 

“You’re spoiling me, Griffin.” 

“Just you wait.”


	12. Day 12- FtWD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a christmas story set in your alternative elyza lex timeline maybe? 

Despite the grueling pace of her first semester, coupled with working, coupled with coupling, there was still a distinct amount of cheer that began to appear in the narrow apartment on the corner of Lake and Perry street, above the festively dressed Chinese restaurant and laundromat combo.

It started as simply bringing out the stupid little tree that appeared the year before as a joke. Alicia dropped her bag on the kitchen counter one day and found herself face to face with the little Christmas tree beaming its lights. She smiled to herself but didn’t say anything. She knew that her girlfriend was a skittish, feral cat, and bringing it up would just make it weird, make her run away.

“How did the Art History final go?” she asked, kissing Elyza’s temple as she kept sketching at her desk.

“I think I nailed it. How was your Poly-Sci presentation?”

“Nailed it.”

“I told you.”

Alicia found herself lounging on the bed, as she was now known to do. The season meant they’d been doing it, whatever it was, for almost a year. It meant Elyza coming to parties whenever she was off and had a chance, and it meant Alicia showing up at the bar and kissing the bartender in front of lots of people to take some kind of ownership. It was still slow and gentle and rough sometimes, and mostly, it was not spooking the artist.

“Do you work tonight?” Alicia ventured, gazing at the wall near the desk, which had since developed a new layer.

“Yeah, sorry. I picked up some extra shifts since it’s end of semester,” she sighed, her shoulders falling. “Could use the money.”

“Hey, no worries. I have some stuff to finish at the house. The girls are doing a secret santa type thing.”

“I, uh, I put the tree out. For. You know, the holidays.” Even with the admission, Elyza turned around in her chair. “I thought since… you know, we’re both going to be on winter break, and stuff.”

“That’s nice.”

“I was going to get ornaments. I don’t know.”

It clicked then, with the timid look that was very foreign to Elyza’s face. But Alicia saw it, and she smiled to herself before pushing herself up on the messy bed. Her brain was fried from her finals schedule. She was tired from the social planning and junk she had to do at the sorority. She was plain exhausted and oddly missing the quiet that came when she visited the stupid narrow apartment that was full of sketchings and panels and now tiny pictures from her own camera that ended up tacked on the wall. But she saw how much Elyza relaxed when she looked at the tree, and it all clicked.

“You like Christmas,” she grinned, earning a scowl.

“No. You like Christmas.”

“I actually don’t like it at all.”

“What?” Elyza balked.

“I don’t know,” Alicia shrugged. “My family was always busy, we never celebrated anything. We had gifts and stuff, but it was never a special time.”

“Tragic backstory that trumps mine, princess”

“Shut up.”

Elyza grinned and tossed her pencil on the desk before pushing herself up and moving to the bed. Her sweatshirt was old and torn at the collar. Her hair was a mess, and there were charcoal smears on her cheek and forehead. She as beautiful and it was effortless and distracting. The smirk she wore was the worst part.

“It was the best time of the year for me. Everyone loves an orphan on Christmas,” she explained. “I got lots of presents and dinners and to meet footballers and go to plays. It was the time of year that I was usually the saddest, but I got to do some cool things.”

“You like Christmas,” Alicia smiled and accepted the kiss and then the smile that followed the realization and admission.

“I always said that one day, I wouldn’t work. I’d have a tree and presents under it, and I’d do all of the Christmas things I saw in movies.”

“So you put out the tree,” she cooed, blown away by the girl who just rolled her eyes at the discovery.

“Shut up.”

“It’s nice. Maybe you can teach me how to do it properly.”

“I’m sure I can teach you a few things,” she smiled, wiggling her eyebrows and kissing her girlfriend’s neck.

* * *

As soon as finals ended, and she had a semester under her belt, Elyza picked up as many shifts as she could because she had someone to buy Christmas gifts for, and that was damn important. It was the extra shifts and the feeling of fingertips against her ribs as a holiday movie played on her laptop, that made her so soothed and tired and sleepy and pliable to agree to very stupid things.

There were lights strung up in the tiny apartment. There were two stockings hung with care beside the tree that was more ornaments than fake branches. There were a few tiny boxes already wrapped beneath it. There was a girl in her bed who moaned when she bit her thighs and was warm under the ol comforter and smelled good and was her pillow. It was a good place to be, that night, and it made her weak to such things as begging.

It wasn’t until a few days later that she was reminded that Alicia tricked her into agreeing to a stupid sorority event. It wasn’t until she earned a dirty make out in the bar bathroom that she realized she was going to have to go to the party and wear a stupid sweater. When she protested that it was not part of her holiday plans, she just earned a please and she was done.

“You look so good!” one of the girls named Paige or Brittany or McKayla said.

It was surreal to watch, but suddenly her girlfriend was unrecognizable. She was prim and proper an cute and bubbly. Not that she wasn’t those things, but now it was different. Elyza put her arm around Alicia’s waist and smiled as best she could.

“Thanks! Elyza picked them out for us.”

“Now that is so cool.”

Just like that the conversation was over, and Elyza was handed a drink.

“See? Holiday parties are what I remember from my Christmas celebrations,” her girlfriend explained. “I’m good at them.”

“I prefer the cookie making, but there’s booze.”

“You’re easy to please.”

“You have no idea,” she grinned and moved closer to her girlfriend.

There was dancing. Lots of dancing. There were people that Elyza couldn’t remember the name of to save her life, but she was nice to them, because more than anything, her deepest, darkest, most afraid to ever say out loud, desire, was that she wanted to be someone who had those things, and didn’t mock them. So she gave into it. She danced and drank and wore a stupid sweater, even though it wasn’t her idea of a holiday tradition.

She was rewarded with a kiss under mistletoe. She was rewarded with a drunk girlfriend who was pretty and fun and sang along to obscene, non-holiday themed songs.

“I can’t believe I’ve never been in your room before,” she realized as she was tugged away from the party and a pretty important round of beer pong.

The snuck upstairs using the stairs in the kitchen of the giant mansion that housed the sorority, so that no one would notice. Except everyone noticed but no one cared.

“You don’t like coming to the house,” Alicia shrugged, her lips all kinds of numb.

“I like you.”

Elyza scrutinized the bedroom, gravitating to the side she knew to be her girlfriend’s by sheer luck and gut. The twin bed was made neatly. The books from the previous semester, now freshly finished, were stacked on a desk. Pictures from the past parties were on the bulletin board. One of her family sat in the middle. Two with Elyza were prominent, earning a smile.

“My roommate went home for the holidays already.”

The bass from the music downstairs thumped the floorboards but as nothing more than a little murmur to them.

“You look cute in that sweater.”

“Are you hitting on me?” Elyza turned to find a body close to her own. Arms wrapped around her neck as a body pressed against her own.

“I am.”

“I’m enjoying this festive sex thing we have going.”

“Yeah? Well you just make me so happy.”

“I do?”

“You came to this because I asked,” Alicia shrugged and kissed along her girlfriend’s jaw, slowly dragging out every word with soft lips and holding her tighter. “The girl who hit on me in the bar wouldn’t have done that.”

“This is reward sex?”

“Yes.”

“You know that it’s highly effective.”

It was. It was too effective. The sweater was tugged up and tossed onto the ground. The light was turned off until just the one on the desk remained, but Alicia was too distracted to turn anything else out.

* * *

There were movies. Lots of Christmas movies. Lots of Christmas cookies. Lots of holiday themed events and cocoa and snacks for the three weeks leading up to the holiday. Elyza tugged Alicia to see the lights, and the trees and decorations. She made her enjoy the traditions she never had but that she always wanted.

The night before, it was Alicia that invited herself over though, despite the fact that no one said anything to make it official. She poured them wine and they slept in the ridiculously festive pyjamas that Eyza picked out.

It wasn’t that Alicia was a grinch, because she wasn’t, she just couldn’t fathom tradition. Her family didn’t do all of that stuff. She knew of them, she just couldn’t bring herself to care much. Until she saw the adorable way that her sturdy, surly girlfriend got in regards to the holiday, and then it was catching.

“Good morning,” Elyza smiled to herself and into the neck of the girl she was alarmingly falling in love with.

“Merry Christmas,” the sleepy girl in her bed hummed.

“There are presents.”

“Santa must have come because you’re a good girl.”

“Don’t start that.”

“Make me coffee and I’ll take off my pants.”

“It’s Christmas morning. Wake up,” Elyza smiled and kissed all that she could, earning some giggles.

Just like that, the warmth was gone from the bed and Alicia groaned in complaint. She had nothing to do during her break but sleep and lounge around, and she had morning plans that were now interrupted because of a holiday.

“Your present isn’t coming until later tonight.”

Her reindeer boxers were rolled up on her hips, the old shirt eclipsing part of them, hair a mess. Alicia rolled over and watched her girlfriend move through the apartment. She was madly in love with her, but she wouldn’t say it. If she said it, then things would be weird.

“There are still presents under the tree. Get up!”

“You’re a literal five year old, did you know that?”

“I’m making coffee.”

Alicia tugged the blanket over her head and hid in the warmth and the smell of them together. She closed her eyes and purred into the cocoon, against the morning.

“Wake up,” a voice came a few moments later as the smell of coffee filled the apartment. The sheets were tugged away, leaving her face covered in messy hair. “I made you coffee and there are presents. What did you get me?”

The questions all came with kisses peppered along her face.

Despite herself, Alicia gave in and sat up. And thus began their Christmas traditions, thus began the opening of the presents and the Christmas song playlist once more on the speakers. Alicia sipped the coffee and watched her girlfriend open her gift.

“This is fantastic,” Elyza beamed, holding up the new sketchpad and pencils she’d been yearning after.

“The right ones, right?”

“Yes, goodness, I love it. Thank you!” she smiled and leaned over to kiss the gift-giver. “Now open yours.”

“Can’t I drink coffee?”

“Open it!”

“Fine, fine. Let’s see what Santa brought me.”

For the first time in her life, Elyza finally understood what it meant by the joy of giving. She loved her present. She loved the last month of their lives together, and she oddly liked enough that they’d been doing it for a year. A year of growing and trying and wanting and kissing and dating and dinners and lunches and fighting and lots and lots and lots of happiness, which was new and developing growth that seemed to be in the proper direction.

But now, she was giving a present she picked up a dozen extra shifts to cover, and she was oddly nervous that it wasn’t a good present, and she was so nervous she couldn’t swallow.

“Oh my… goodness,” Alicia furrowed as she stared at the velvet box, opening it very slowly. “You… this is too much?”

“It’s not much, but I saw it and I thought it was pretty and I wanted you to have it.”

“This is beautiful. I love it.”

Elyza was afraid to look at her girlfriend’s face, but she watched her hold up the necklace with the little charm on the end and she fret to herself.

“Are you sure?”

“This is perfect, seriously,” she promised. “But you spent too much.”

“I picked up a few extra shifts…”

“Help me put it on.”

Elyza gulped as she did it. It was silly and stupid and she was nervous because her girlfriend was happy. She kissed her neck and she smiled to herself because her heart was doing that thing that the Grinch’s did in the movie.

“Now you can’t get to mad at me for spending too much on your present,” Alicia grinned as she turned around and crawled into Elyza’s lap.

“I already have my present.”

“Yeah. There’s a part two.”

“Um….”

“Just go to work, and I’ll bring it later.”

“First, Christmas breakfast.”

“Deal,” Alicia grinned, touching the little charm on her chest.

* * *

There was a rush on the holidays that no one would really expect. Just enough family time and then people were done, in need of a reprieve, and the bars filled with the abrupt end of the holiday season. Even when part of the city was gone with the college out, Elyza still found herself oddly busy for her shift.

At first, Alicia said she had to go to her family dinner, and then the surprise. But Elyza forgot all of it when she found herself slinging orders and trying to catch up.

Until she looked up and had to do a double-take.

“Abby?”

Crowded as the bar was, Clarke caught sight of her girlfriend and the woman with her and she heard the bar noise dim to almost nothing.

“Come on then,” she held out her hands, waiting.

“This is your Christmas surprise,” Alicia smiled wide. “I can’t return it.”

“Abby?”

“This is a nicer place than I would have expected. I also heard you dropped out of school but you’re in another?” the social worker waited.

It was uncharacteristic, but it was still a sight to see. Alicia smiled to herself, a giddiness growing in her lungs as she watched her girlfriend launch herself into this strange woman’s arms. Every tough and motorcycle-loving bit of Elyza was reduced to a happy kid who got a new bike for Christmas, and she hugged Abby so tight, she wouldn’t let go.

Proud of herself, Alicia watched the display happily.

“You let your hair grow out,” Abby observed, holding her cheeks and tugging on a strand of it. “It looks good.”

“You got old.”

“Yeah, well, you worried me into half of these wrinkles.”

Elyza smiled and hugged her again, squeezing with all of her might.

“You met my girl?”

“I did. She’s lovely.”

“She made me date her.”

“Good.”

“How long are you– How long is she here for?” Elyza finally turned back and looked at said girlfriend, the forcer of dates, the master of all Christmas surprises.

“A week.”

“This is a good surprise,” she smiled, finally letting go and swallowing up Alicia in a hug. “Thank you.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”


	13. Day 13- Snowed In (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, could you mabey write a short piece with cop lexa and waitres clarke, from the christmas posts? I know that story is over but i saw that you posted a bit of lexark and that was perfection, short and sweet. I really like lexa as a cop, im weak for women in uniforms and she would look really good in it. Have a good one and keep up the good work, you make my days so much better.

The forecast called for snow. It always called for snow in December, but this snow was different, and even the taste of the wind could clue someone into that fact. The clouds all gathered and decided that a good snow was due for the sleepy little town, even though it received the gift of record snowfall the year before. The mountains shivered and the trees all cracked and creaked, upset with the first round of weight added to them. The chill in the air was enough to freeze a sneeze, while the world was as crisp as living in a snow globe.

The police officer felt her lungs grow frozen and stiff in the cold, and she was fairly certain her nose was so red it would never thaw, But still, she stood outside and helped evacuate those who thought they could traverse the storm.

By the end of her sixteen hours, she was exhausted, plain and simple, but not a soul was left who needed help in the small town, and she’d made sure that Old Mr. Jones had wood on his porch, and that Old Lady Smythe had her prescription filled, and that the Fernandez twins were home with a parent and not out causing trouble, and that the Pelrids were okay and still pregnant.

In just almost two years, Lexa felt like she knew the town, finally. She was starting to catch on, and she was good at her job. She might even have dared to say that she liked it most of the time, a fact that made her family worry about her future and her concerned with how happiness was not a considered factor in it.

But she was in this town and she was happy, even with the ridiculous amount of snow and the holiday that was supposed to be spent with her family but was ruined yet again. Even with it all, Lexa was generally happy, though that was because the season rubbed off on her.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” the waitress greeted her with a grin as she looked up from her book at the sound of the door opening.

“H-h-h-h-hi,” Lexa chattered as she tugged off mittens. “It-t-t-t-t-t’s so c-c-c-cold.”

“Remember when you got that job offer near the beach?”

“Shut i-t-t-t, G-g-g-g-griffin.”

“Sit down and I’ll get you some tea and some dinner,” she smiled and rolled her eyes at the surly officer who made her smile on a daily basis.

The diner was decorated in all manner of Christmas celebration, if the decorations were from 1974. To be fair, that was probably when they actually were bought.

All along the windows, multi-colored garland hung lazily beside half-blinking and mismatched lights that couldn’t keep time to save their lives. But still, in the oblong way that they did, they ticked at different speeds, each section of wire going off at a different time than the rest, but not nearly in a coordinated manner.

Cartoon Santas and reindeer and trees covered the walls, while a fake, terribly gnarled fake tree sat on the far end of the counter with multi-color lights and mismatched ornaments. It was a winter wonderland, right from the Cold War era, which was mildly disturbing and weirdly soothing at the same time.

Lexa fumbled with her coat and mittens, finally managing to take it off as best she could, tossing them on the empty booth behind her.

“It’s really coming down, huh?” Clarke ventured, reappearing with a mug and a plate she prepared herself. “Maybe this is our tradition.”

“I was kind of hoping to make it off the mountain.”

“Next year.”

“I’m not complaining,” Lexa grinned as a pretty girl who liked to kiss her until her lips were raw, pulled up a stool across the counter and stole a fry. “Not a bad way to spend an anniversary.”

“It’s not our anniversary,” the waitress rolled her eyes.

“Sexiversary.”

“It doesn’t count.”

“You should have agreed to go on a date with me sooner,” the cop shrugged. “Instead, we have to celebrate our sexiversary on Christmas Eve.”

“You’re a pain most of the time, you know that?”

“I do, yeah.”

“Shut up, get warm, and eat.”

“Yes ma’am.”

For the past year, Lexa had been doing nothing except listen to the pretty waitress boss her around, and she liked it more than most would guess. It wasn’t malicious, it was always the thoughtful kind of bossing, reminding her to eat, not work out too hard, to sleep for a long period of time between shifts.

“I think I can close up,” Clarke decided as she watched the snow continue to obscure the street outside.

“I don’t know if I can make it back to my place. Mind if I stay over?”

“You’re funny,” she rolled her eyes again.

* * *

There was a tree in the front window of the house on Third Street. Clarke put it up despite Lexa’s insisting that it wasn’t necessary, and that she liked the disty, draft old apartment above the diner much better.

Lexa’s house was tiny. It was a little one bedroom about a mile away from the center of town, and before a certain waitress, it lacked a distinct holiday flair. But that was rectified this year. This year, Lexa’s little house, with the tiny porch that barely housed her bike and a hammock, that was overrun with lights and the windows boasted decorations like snowflakes and reindeer.

“I don’t see why you had to march us to your place,” Clarke sighed as she kicked her boots on the porch.

The sidewalk was shovelled early in the morning, but the snowfall ruined it. Beneath the layer on the bushes, the lights shined and matched those hanging for the eaves. Despite the dark, the little porch was glowing and shimmering in the yard.

“We did Christmas at your place last year.”

“Fine.”

“It was a nice walk.”

“It was a trudge.”

The lights made the living room glow while the tree tinkled and they hung up their coats. Clarke liked the little house. She liked the little kitchen and the blue mug from Lexa’s alma mater. She really liked the comfy bed and the girl that came in it. She loved that Lexa complained and let her dress up the house, that she just begrudgingly accepted ornaments and lights and a list of things to do, and she just did them anyway.

“What’s this?” Clarke asked as she turned toward the living room and found the floor crafted into a cozy little pallet.

“This is the reason we had to trudge home,” Lexa grinned and put her heavy belt on the table by the door. “Just hold tight for a moment.”

Quickly, Lexa lit a few candles and went to work on lighting the woodburner in the corner, opposite the tree. Roses sat on the coffee table that was pushed aside in favor of their little nest. It was by far, the cutest thing she’d ever seen her girlfriend fret over.

“It’s Christmas, but also our anniversary, whether you admit it or not. I thought we could redo it all.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, mildly self-conscious at the display.

“Lex, this is so cute.”

“I know we’re not ones for kind of these things, But I thought just once.”

“This is perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Clarke nodded, assuring her by wrapping her arms around her neck. “I’m more than okay to celebrate our sexiversary right here.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” she smiled and pressed against the cop, kissing her sweetly until her hands moved to the buttons of her shirt.

“I like you a lot.”

“Just wait until you see what I’m wearing under this,” Clarke grinned, earning a surprised look. “Just because I think it’s a weird thing to celebrate, and we didn’t start dating until much later, doesn’t mean I don’t know how to not be a spoiled sport.”

“What’s underneath?”

Even cold from the trudge to her house, even after the long day, Clarke pushed away from the warmth and the half unbuttoned girl, and started to take her shirt off.

“Come find out,” she smirked.

* * *

Despite the night of snow, despite the accumulation and the early hour of the morning, the sun began its normal rise, casting a light along the pallet of sleeping bodies, huddled together among the pillows and discarded lingerie.

Clarke yawned and stretched and dug her nose into the bare, warm skin of Lexa’s shoulder and neck where she kissed there softly, earning a hum. Her back was sore, her legs were sticky, and her life was perfect.

Two years ago, she was miserable. She was angry and mad and she didn’t know what was up. And then a stupid rookie cop walked into her diner one night after a shift, and she smiled at her. Clarke knew it was the beginning of the end. And then the cop came back a few days later. And a few days after that. And then the next morning. And the morning after that. Until they were friends. And then came wine, and then came happiness, and then came the best snowed in experience that she could ever hope to have.

Lexa slept on, despite the moving of the girl beside her. She didn’t notice other than to roll over and sag deeper into their little cocoon.

The fire burned down to almost nothing, and Clarke took it upon herself to stoke it. She tugged on Lexa’s old PT shirt, the one with the academy insignia on it, the one that she’d claimed, even though Lexa tried to say she hadn’t. And then she tugged on some underwear and made the coffee.

By the time she made it back, her girlfriend was sitting up and running her hands over her face, trying to wake up. Clarke kept early hours, kept diner hours, or so she said. Lexa was better at sleeping when and where she could for as long as she could. She was a great sleeper, and a terrible waker.

“Merry Christmas,” Clarke smiled and handed over a mug.

“Merry Christmas,” Lexa rasped and blinked, squinting up at the pretty girl in minimal clothing. Her hair was a mess and almost in her eyes, but still she smiled that stupid sleepy smile that Clarke fell for that very morning, just a year ago. “I have to teach you how to sleep better.”

“I’m a work in progress, and you knew that.”

“Yeah yeah.”

Clarke took a seat beside her on the fake mattress they created on the ground. She kissed her cheek and neck and jaw and earned and growl.

“I like the morning after a lot.”

“Me too.”

“You just want to open your presents.”

“Yeah,” Lexa smiled, still sleepy but now awake.

“Fine. Go on.”

The tree was perfect. Clarke worked hard on it. She hung stockings and she bought cute little ornaments and made the tiny house smell like gingerbread, which was nice and new. But the presents. Lexa refused to have help wrapping, and they were a mess. She didn’t have the patience to make everything look like Clarke did, like a holiday magazine from an expensive store.

“So this is for you,” Lexa finally offered, digging the first thing she wrapped from deep under the tree.

The paper was wadded up. She tried to make it okay, but now when she saw it, she was embarrassed. Still wearing the new hat and scarf her girlfriend made for her, and cradling the painting she made herself, she hid and watched.

“A coffee mug?”

“Yeah.”

“A coffee mug from Dave’s Auto Body?” Clarke furrowed and read the side before she hear the tinkling inside it.

“I figured you might like your own mug.”

“What’s this?”

“A mug.”

“No, this,” Clarke shook her head and held up the key.

“Oh yeah. Just a key. To here. So you can use the mug when I’m not here sometimes.”

“You’re giving me a key to your house?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.”

“And a mug,” Lexa explained. “The mug is so you’ll stop stealing my favorite one. And move in. But whatever. If you want.”

“You– what?”

“No, you.”

“Wait.”

“Clarke.”

“You want me to move in?” Clarke grinned, looking up at the sputtering girl who hid under a new hat and a painting that would go in the hallway beside the kitchen.

“Yeah. Duh.”

“You want me to move in with you?”

“I do. I want you around all of the time. I like you a lot.”

Clarke launched herself around her girlfriend’s neck, and she kissed her and laughed, oddly happy because things were nice now, for her. She was happy, and it was a Christmas miracle that her life was different than just two years ago.


	14. Day 14- Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas for Hero please. :)

“But why?” Clarke grumbled, shoving her hands in her pockets, both out of frustration and out of annoyance and out of the cold.

The streets were almost empty. The world was a snow globe, with the fat flakes wafting through the glow of the streetlights and the dark, starless night. Garland lined railings while windows were full of candles and snowmen. Lampposts bore the attire of wreaths and bows, suddenly appearing as part of the world as opposed to most of the year, when they were invisible necessities.

None of it did anything for Clarke. Not one part of it was anything for her at all.

“Because, it will give you peace,” Lexa insisted. She earned a glare and pursed lips, but that didn’t stop her from her mission. “Because it’s part of your history.”

“I don’t know if I have a history.”

“Then it’s part of our future,” she breathed, the cloud of her breath escaping and disappearing into the sky. “Just try it for me. If you don’t like it, then you can worship the gods with me.”

“Aren’t you a god?”

“That’s not the point.”

“I don’t worship you enough?”

Lexa felt herself blush despite the cold.

“This is one of your only memories. Just try, for me?”

It’d been a long battle, the whole Christmas celebration. Every day seemed like a new addition to the things they had to do to celebrate, and Clarke was downright exhausted by trying to be jovial. It didn’t make sense to her. None of the season, nor feeling it evoked were fun for her to experience.

But then there was Lexa, and Clarke bottled up everything because she wanted so desperately to be happy, and Lexa was going to help her figure out what that meant. They weren’t there yet, but she was trying.

“Fine.”

“Thank you,” Lexa smiled to herself and hugged her girlfriend’s arm.

Only when they stood in front of the church did Clarke pause and her brain go numb and quiet. While for the entire walk over it was racing and angry and trying to stifle something, as soon as they stopped, it decided not to work at all. 

There was a smell, the thick, heavy kind of warmth and spice that lingered in the air, wafting through the continually opening doors. It was nearly midnight, and still the sidewalk was busy, mingling that familiar smell with the crispness of the night.

All at once, Clarke remembered, though it was nothing specific. Instead, it was just a memory of a feeling, of possibly a few different memories coming together. But it was a candlelit church that was jammed full of people in large puffy coats or sweaters. And the eaves were cast in shadows while the scent of pine and myrrh. Clarke remembered those parts. She remembered the smell and the light and the feeling of being squished but not overwhelmed, this feeling of being alive and a part of something that made her feel safe.

Lexa waited for a moment and tugged her hand. They sat in the back pew after Clarke dipped her fingers in the water that waited by the door. She didn’t know what to do, but she moved it around between her thumb and finger until it dried on the pads of her fingertips.

They did not take off their coats and scarves. They looked like everyone else.

While Clarke listened to her native tongue tell stories and make prayers, Lexa watched her listen, watched her face become impassable and unreadable. But she knew what that meant. When her girlfriend was the most stoic, she was also the most vulnerable. And so she just sat there and realized how rusty her Eastern Russian dialect had become.

Before they were dismissed, Clarke stood and made her way outside, inhaling a deep smell of frozen air. She remembered too much and she did not understand it, but she held Lexa’s hand in the quiet as they walked home because she remembered what it meant.

* * *

It was a foreign concept, to come home, to have a home. But the homeless, orphaned puppy found herself with one, and found herself oddly missing it.

The snow came down in the early December afternoon, and the street that the brownstone she now shared with a beautiful goddess was all manner of perfectly untouched. The crisp white of the fresh snow mingled along and obscured the rest of the world. Cars were covered or starting to be tucked away, the ledges and steps were slopes. Wreaths hung from the lampposts while lights were glittering along windows and tree limbs.

The mission was a boring one, meaning that Clarke didn’t get to punch that many people. She shouldered her bag and trampled up the steps, pounding her boots against the welcome mat before she dug for her keys. Her key was attached to a keychain with Lexa’s insignia on it, and that made her smile sometimes.

She tossed her keys on the table by the door and dropped the bag, still a little tired from her long trip.

“Privet, detka,” Clarke cooed as the cat rubbed herself against her shin. “Ty skuchal po mne med?”

The only answer she got was in the form of purring and rubbing and a tiny meow deep in it all as she kicked off her boots. Clarke followed the faint hum of music toward the back of the house, pausing briefly at the double doors that opened to a large, naked tree sitting in the living room. A chair that once occupied a corner was gone, move somewhere else unseen. She shook her head and made her way toward the kitchen, succeeding in making it just a few steps.

“You’re back!”

“I’m back.”

“Hi,” Lexa smiled wide, placing the boxes she was carrying on the ground and hugging her girlfriend quickly.

The kisses came just as quick, and Clarke gobbled them up, leaning into them, despite the fact that the cat found them annoying, and left as they deepened against the wall, as the attention turned so quickly and she didn’t care about what wasn’t her’s.

“You weren’t supposed to get back until tonight. What did you do?”

“Octavia tracked them and we rounded them up early,” Clarke shrugged, tightening her hold and tugging back for more kisses.

Lexa was a magnet, and Clarke had no way to fight the pull. So she didn’t. She clung there, greedy and eager and desperate and missing her for a few days already. Not even a whole week, and Clarke needed more.

“I was going to have the tree all done, but since you’re here, you can help me.”

“Why are you putting up a tree?”

“Because it’s Christmas.”

“You don’t have Christmas on your home,” Clarke reminded her softly, chasing lips and neck. The neck for sure.

“I’ve adopted it. Don’t you like the holidays?”

“I mean, I don’t really care about them.”

“Why?”

“I usually work.”

The smile that spread on Lexa’s lips told Clarke she was in trouble, and yet she couldn’t figure out what it would mean for her in that moment. It was the same kind of soft smile that Lexa got when she found out that Clarke didn’t have a birthday or that she’d never been to the fair, and that usually meant something uncomfortable was coming.

“We’re going to do the tree together then,” Lexa decided.

“Or we could have sex in the shower,” Clarke offered as a body slid away from her own, much to her dismay.

“We can do that later. I want to show you all of the stuff I got.”

“This is stupid.”

“No it isn’t. You need to learn these things.”

Already, Lexa was on her way back to the living room, and all Clarke could do was hang her head and look at her now empty hands, wondering how things changed, and how, after her long trip and work, she was now stuck doing more. Trips were supposed to mean welcome home sex. Instead, she got a stupid tree for a holiday she didn’t celebrate.

But, like the puppy she was, Clarke hung her head and grumbled to herself as she followed her girlfriend.

Exactly two hours after they started, the tree was perfect. The lights were dazzling and glowing as the night fell outside. The window became dark while the snow shimmered and sloshed around after its day of settling. The cat curled up on the chair after attacking ornaments and tiny blinking bulbs while they worked, and she surveyed, supervising the hanging of stockings and Clarke’s perfectionist streak.

Even though it wasn’t something she cared about, Clarke found herself wrapped up in it. Christmas movies were some of her favorite movies, and in them, there was always the picturesque scene of the perfect tree and a roaring fire. The family gathered and they were full of joy. She could be full of joy, she once thought.

“So, you liked putting the tree together?” Lexa asked, turning her head as they cuddled under the tree, laying on the skirt on the ground, up at the glowing beacon of the season from below its hood.

“It’s fine,” Clarke shrugged, relying on her familiar reaction when she was afraid of admitting that she could maybe like something.

“I think you did a good job. I didn’t expect that.”

“I wanted it to look nice for you,” she tried as her girlfriend tilted her head and slid her hand into her’s. “It looks nice.”

“It looks great.”

Both smiled slightly and looked up at the tree, their backs flat on the floor and their shoulders touching. Outside, a plow trudged along, clearing out what it could reach. They didn’t notice it, nor did they notice the cat stretching, arching its back before she hopped down and approached the owners.

“Does this mean there will be presents under it?” Clarke whispered.

“Yeah of course.”

“I’ve never had a tree before.”

Lexa already knew that. She already knew that this was going to be different, that perhaps it was going to be a slow process, to acclimate her girlfriend to the real world, and most particularly the season of which she loved so dearly.

“Now you do. And a stocking.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re allowed to feel a certain way, if you want.”

“I’m kind of happy, even though I was annoyed before because I didn’t care about this stupid thing.”

“And now?” Lexa asked, finally stealing a look at Clarke’s profile as she stared back at the tree.

“It’s still kind of stupid. But less stupid because it looks so nice and smells very good.”

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, but I’m kind of excited to have something for us both.”

“It’s fine,” Clarke nodded, her brain too damaged to process a notion like that. Instead, it just short-circuited and played dumb, processing it all too slowly.

“Welcome home,” Lexa whispered, inching closer until she kissed Clarke’s shoulder.

Clarke felt her stomach flutter at the thought of it, at the feeling of warmth that spread across her chest and joined the already contented feelings of her bones. She was home, now, and no one could take that from her. She had a tree and a girl and a cat. Those were all things, and those were all enough to root her in the infinite belief that she could belong to the land of the living.

She leaned over and kissed the professor’s forehead before inhaling a deep breath and holding it. Clarke closed her eyes and smiled, her face awash in the glow.

* * *

“Are you having fun?”

“I am having lots of fun,” Clarke answered, not completely a lie, but not exactly the truth.

There was still this weirdness to choosing to go to things, to being around people by choice. Clarke once killed a man with a fork. She once held a colleague as he died and wept for his mother, a man who murdered children and kidnapped adults to torture. Now, she was wearing a dress and going to parties at rooftops for the holidays.

It was hard to find her personality, as Lexa liked to refer to this process. Clarke worked with Lexa and still used her skills, though not to such fatal ends. She went to the grocery store and she went to the library, she volunteered at an animal shelter, and she went on dates. Clarke had a life. She had a favorite pizza place and a great spot in the park she liked to hang out to read and people watch. She still didn’t know everything else. But Lexa said those were starts.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m having a moderate, and possibly more than usual, amount of fun.”

“I’ll take it,” Lexa smiled and sipped her champagne.

She looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful, but she looked stunningly beautiful. Clarke was often distracted with how pretty Lexa was. The whole part god or whatever, that thing really didn’t help it at all.

“I like this dress,” Clarke tried. “This is a nice party.”

“Thank you for being my date.”

Clarke accepted a kiss and relaxed a little more. They stood by the table and looked out onto the city, looked out at the decorations and the holiday lights. Inside, Christmas music played and holiday drinks were all over the place.

The NYU Humanities department threw one hell of a party to end the semester and celebrate the season. The invitation sat on their fridge for weeks, and every time Clarke went to eat her cereal, she would look at it and dread it. But it wasn’t the worst.

There was this weird feeling in her chest, when people spoke to her about Lexa. Professors and a few students, they all said she was brilliant and kind and funny and good, and Clarke knew those things already, deep down in her very soul, but something about hearing it was different. It was like everyone was giving her approval, or that they loved Lexa so much, and that Clarke was making a great choice, to be lucky enough to be loved by someone like that.

And she agreed.

“Oh my goodness, you are so quick!” a wife of some professor of some ancient thing giggled, patting Clarke’s forearm. “You must come out on the boat with us. We do a nice tour on Sundays around the island.”

“That sounds lovely,” Clarke nodded politely, oddly unsure of what that might actually entail. She didn’t care. She knew it was empty.

“We’d love to have you both. We don’t have any other gay couples.”

“Well, the gays are notoriously against boating.”

“Oh my!I didn’t know.”

“That’s okay. You didn’t know.”

“Can I steal you?” Lexa grinned and sept in after watching Clarke keep up a conversation than she thought possible. “I think I saw some silent auction things we should bid on.”

“Sure. Please, yes,” she nodded eagerly. “It was nice to meet you.”

Once more, they disappeared into the crowd, and Lexa grabbed them drinks from a waiter. Clarke made it a bit into the crowd before she chanced a look back at the woman who was now onto the next mindless conversation.

“That was the Dean’s wife.”

“I think we have to go boating with them,” Clarke remembered.

“I left you alone for five minutes, and you get us invited on the Dean’s yacht. You’re amazing, did you know that?”

“I’ve heard.”

Clarke smiled as they paused atop the balcony that overlooked the world and the lights and the garland and the large tree. She kissed her girlfriend under the mistletoe at the holiday party and she didn’t have to pretend in that moment. That was real and her.

* * *

“This is stupid.”

“It’s not.”

“This is really dumb,” Clarke complained again as she made her way through the mall.

A pretend Santa sat in the fake North Pole. A large tree with basketball-sized ornaments towered for three stories. People were chattering and shopping and eating pretzels, and all Clarke could do was try to keep the Christmas carols out of her head.

“You’re a real grinch for someone who likes Christmas so much,” Octavia scolded as she juggled her bags full of gifts.

“What do you buy a demi-god with a good job and who wants for nothing except for justice and world peace?”

“A candle?”

“She does love those.”

Clarke felt herself get pushed and nudged in the swaying crowd, kids bumped her as they raced between legs and toward the winter train that rounded the area.

“She’ll love whatever you get her. You know that.”

“This is our first Christmas. I want there to be more.”

“Man, I remember when you were just this weird, non-talking assassin thing,” Octavia shook her head as she watched Clarke pick up a neck pillow from some storefront. “Now you’re this gruff, terrible Christmas shopping, non-talking ex-assassin.”

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s kind of funny.”

“Are you going to help or not?”

“This is just more fun to watch.”

* * *

On Christmas Eve, the house was full of people. There were candles lit, and lights blinking and a fire roaring while the cat rubbed against shins and butt its head against shins for attention. The drinks flowed while a handful of close friends escaped the cold and filled the house with merriment that Clarke only understood as film-like about an hour into it when she realized that she didn't think too much. It just happened.

By the time everyone left, late into the night or early into the morning, both were too tired to do much of anything in regards to cleaning up, and so they didn’t. Instead, Clarke let Lexa push her against the wall in the hallway and do very non-sleepy things to her until they fell asleep.

It was the Christmas tradition she was most excited about, if she were being honest.

“I love it,” Clarke promised again as she held up the pastels and played with it.

She hadn’t expected really much of anything when she saw boxes under the tree. It hadn’t really clicked with her that it was a thing to do, to buy gifts and to receive them as well. But she opened up the box and found the set of pencils an sketchbook and art supplies and she was over the moon because she always wanted something like that, and now it existed, and it was because someone bought it for her.

“Now it’s my turn,” Lexa decided. “Although, today has just been great already. You, happy and enjoying the holiday season has been so much fun. You think you’re all messed up, but I think it’s just because you’re thoughtful, and I love that we--”

“Do you like it?”

“Wow.”

“You’re hard to shop for.”

“You picked this out yourself?”

“Is it obvious?”

Clarke was halfway to calculating how to disappear, how to go back to her old life, to kiss everything she’d just found goodbye because she was stupid and needed a better present. She could have picked ten thousand candles. That might have been a safer bet.

“Where did you get it?” Lexa asked, shaking her head as she unsheathed the ancient dagger. “It’s been lost for decades.”

“Um, internet?”

“Clarke….”

It was the stern eyes. They won every time. Clarke busied her hands by picking up the cat and settling her on her lap, rubbing her belly and distracting herself from confession.

“I just did some research. That’s it.”

“Clarke.”

“I contacted some people I used to work with a long time ago, and then I just followed the trail.”

“Okay, I don’t want to know what you did to get this, do I?”

“I didn’t kill anyone. Not badly.”

“I love you, you know that?”

“No, why?”

“Because who else would give me The Rescuers Down Under on VHS, a candle that smells like a forest, and an ancient, forgotten ceremonial dagger of my homeland for Christmas?”

“You don’t like them?” Clarke worried, finally meeting her girlfriend’s amused glance.

“No, honey,” she promised. “I love it all so much.”


	15. Day 15- Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Possibly Christmas for Princess AU? Maybe one of them finds meaning to what was previously a period of obligation, duty never resting. Just a thought.

“This is my favorite time of the year,” Clarke sighed contentedly as they stood at the top of the balcony that overlooked the party.

Beneath them, the band played the national anthem and the giant tree glowed in all its warm, full kind of way. The entire world was there, and the entire world’s lens were tuned to them, the two at the top of the steps, the two in the gowns and the smiles and the entourage of guards and things to keep them safe.

Still vaguely new to it, Lexa was stiff. The media saw her as stiff and as the former army intelligence office that she truly was, the same one who gave up that life and that important part of herself because the larger, deeper, stronger part of her was madly in love, and because of that, she was happy.

She was still adjusting though. And at a much slower pace than most would expect.

“You certainly do it up big here in the palace. Bigger than I remember.”

“Remember when we used to sneak into this party and steal all of the cookies?”

“Remember when we stole the liquor. We were what? Thirteen or fourteen?” Lexa grinned. It was fast and small, but people saw it as she held her girlfriend’s waist and walked with her into the party.

The ball was the party. It was the party to end all parties, all of the parties of the year built up to this one, the last of the season before the newest year would come around and start it again. There was champagne by the boatload, food by the dumpster, and above all else, there was music and merriment in an overwhelming supply. It was one of the few parties of which Clarke was not completely in everyone’s eyes. She wasn’t the star of the show.

Instead, it was the giant tree with the presents and the lights. The entire garden outside of the giant windows was a galaxy, with what felt like infinite stars glowing outside. Clarke opened her home up to the world to share it. Every day for weeks, as soon as the lights went up, she invited schools and kids to walk through the lights, to spend a night camping in the ballroom. Any chance she got, she spent her time celebrating with as many people as possible. She loved the season.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” Clarke promised, kissing Lexa’s cheek.

That was all that they got in public. That was all they could manage before they got stuck mingling.

Back in their bedroom, on the other side of the palace, back where no one else was allowed, there was a tree. It was small and it was perfectly decorated in the odd kind of way that showed it was done by hand. They made their own ornaments, they wrapped it in lights themselves, and beneath it sat a few little presents that they accumulated as the month progressed.

Lexa liked that they had their own little things. She didn’t like seeing her picture all over the place, nor did she like what people sometimes said about her. But she did love Clarke. And she did like their tree.

The songs and carols rang out through the night. The band played old favorites and filled the floor with bodies dancing and laughing. Clarke did her job well, as she was known to do, and Lexa tried, though she wasn’t nearly as good at it yet.

The party continued even though the two met up and snuck out after one. There was still much champagne to be drank and much revelry to be had, but they had their own kind of party to attend.

“I stole some champagne,” Clarke grinned as they nodded to the guard at the end of a hall.

“I also stole some champagne,” Lexa showed, wiggling the bottle around.

“Let’s pop them and go look at the lights from the roof.”

“Are you seducing me, your majesty?”

“I’m trying.”

“Good.”

* * *

Lexa didn’t mind being thought of as stern and focused. At least she thought she didn’t. Those were admirable qualities that anyone would love to be called, and yet, when she saw them written in the press, she seemed to read a double meaning into them. Stern and focused and stoic and unamused seemed to mean something like cold and frigid and rude and unimpressed and boring. All of which were things that she wasn’t, and all of which were things that she didn’t want Clarke to see.

Woompff.

The snowball hit the ex-secret agent right in the shoulder, making her lurch forward a step. When she turned around, her girlfriend was smirking and pretending she hadn’t thrown it, though her snow-dusted mittens told a different story.

“You think that’s funny?”

“I mean, it just seems kind of curious that a specially trained military agent could be snuck up on by a regular old monarch,” she shrugged. “Pretty impressive on my part, I guess.”

“I didn’t know I was dating a six year old who liked to throw snowballs.”

“What? Are you intimidated?”

Clarke began to pack another snowball as she said the words. It was supposed to be a nice, quiet walk around the lake. It was supposed to be some snowman building and maybe some kissing as they stretched their legs and retreated from the pictures and the world and the duty that seemed to come at that time of year.

And then another snowball was fired, landing square in Lexa’s arm.

“Okay, now it’s on,” Lexa grinned, bending over to form her own, earning a little yelp as Clarke tried to skip away.

For almost an hour, they ran around the yard on the side of the palace, tossing snowballs at each other, trudging up the perfectly pristine snow, and making a general mess of a battlefield. The Great Snowball Battle of the East Pond was quickly followed by the noble effort to create the world’s largest snowman. That, in turn, became the composition of three large snow balls that could not be stacked because they were too heavy. Which then became three separate and smaller, but still quite good, sized snowmen.

“Not bad,” Clarke nodded proudly to herself. “Nice little snow-family.”

“I could have gone without the snow in my shirt,” Lexa wagered but agreed. “But we do good work.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“You’re not.”

“I’m not, but still,” she grinned and scooted closer as Lexa put her arm around her waist. “We needed to find some Christmas fun.”

“I agree.”

“No press, no questions, no ceremonies. Just fun.”

“Don’t ruin it.”

“I won’t,” Clarke promised, kissing her girlfriend as the snow started to fall around them.

Woompff.

The ground slid out from under her, and Lexa yelped as her ass hit the hard ground. Her body was colder than normal, and Clarke waited, standing there and not covered in snow. All Lexa could do was squint up at the sky and her girlfriend and the snow that started to come down around them, adding to the display.

The laugh started quiet at first. And before Clarke could ask if she was alright, a laughing girlfriend tugged her down for a kiss. An instant later, Clarke was on top of Lexa in the snow, frozen and glowing.

They didn’t notice the press in the distance with their long lenses. And for the first time in a long time, they didn’t care.

When the pictures made the front page the following day, Lexa smiled to herself as she picked up a copy and saw them in the snow.


	16. Day 16- Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clexa prompt: we’re co workers who hate each other but you had too much to drink at the staff christmas party and admitted your love for me i don’t know how to act around you now.

The company Christmas party started off as an upright gathering but quickly– and inevitably– turned into a drunken shindig. By the time most of the bosses disappeared, and the lights were turned lower, and the liquor flowed right through the conga line down the cubicles and up toward the executive offices. The music shifted from festive to just plain loud while closets became home to embarrassing hookup spots. Throughout the office, the decorations were added to and pulled down, lights were added to outfits while those who fell asleep too early, right there in the offices, were decorated like Christmas trees.

From a safe distance, Clarke hung with the other artists and designers, while they smoked in the break room. She took her turn and sipped her drink, but mostly, she kept her wits. It wasn’t particularly by choice, but she lost a bet, and she was very honorable in that regard. Plus, the way the party was devolving, she was almost glad to not be part of the drunken masses.

“You’re the best artist here,” Monty explained, almost serious, as he inhaled and held it for a second before filling the mellowed break room with more smoke. “Everyone knows it. You should be lead director.”

“I just like drawing. I’m pretty happy where I’m at,” she promised.

“Yeah, well if the big dumb Commander knew anything, she’d have you designing the concept art for that new game we’re making.”

“One day.”

“You’re just the best.”

“I appreciate that, Monty.” Clarke sipped her drink and watched the stoner artists do their best work, right there. “I’m going to go check on Raven, and I’ll be back.”

“Good luck.”

“Behave yourselves.”

The lights outside were different than the normally pristine offices of Tree Hut Games. It was naturally a more relaxed environment, with some of their more famous games’ art. But the party was above and beyond. Slowly, Clarke made her way through the halls, weaving her way around the apparent games of strip poker that broke out and the seance and Ouija board that made appearances.

Clarke liked her work. She liked working with her friends, and she loved that her work consisted of making a great thing. She could have lived without her overbearing and perfectionist boss. That part was well beyond her tolerance.

Still, she finished her drink and made her way around the office, enjoying the scenes that appeared. The only office that remained shut was that of the boss, though she could be seen inside.

Perhaps it was the drink, perhaps it was the joint she enjoyed in the break room, perhaps it was just the season and the fact that she was, even in her lightly intoxicated state, the most sober person at the party, but Clarke knocked on the door anyway. She couldn’t find Raven, though she was certain she couldn’t have gotten into too much trouble. Or at least she hoped.

“Yes?”

“You’re missing the party,” Clarke observed, making her way inside.

“I’m enjoying the fact that my employees are enjoying themselves.”

“You’re kind of a wet blanket, aren’t you?”

“Did you come into this room to insult me?” Lexa asked, piquing a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Clarke gulped and watched her boss lean back in her chair and tilt her head. She gulped to herself and missed her drink when Lexa took a swig of her own. Outside, in the hubbub of the party, the music was turned up across the floor, and a round of karaoke ensued. 

Her boss was gorgeous. Her boss was cocky and obstinate and rich and came from a good family and had a good education and from all other accounts that were not Clarkes, she was even funny from time to time. Most of all though, she was pretty, and Clarke hated her. They hated each other. They constantly pushed each other’s buttons.

“Yes. That’s why I came in.”

“Got any others for me?”

“You’re a pain in the butt. And you are stuck up and stubborn and don’t give up and a perfectionist.”

“Those aren’t insults, really,” she grinned and poured herself another drink. “You don’t like me though, do you?”

“I don’t know you. No one does. But I don’t like the parts I do know.”

They stared at each other until Clarke looked away, shuffling her feet while the terrible version of Jingle Bell Rock wafted across the office and desks. Lexa pushed up the sleeve of her sweater and tugged out another cup from her desk.

“You’re not worried about the office or partaking?” Clarke ventured.

“Contrary to what you might think of me,” she sighed and poured the newest addition a glass of vodka. “I do care that my employees are safe. They can blow off steam today. I just want to make sure they’re safe.”

“Is that for me?”

“If you want.”

Clarke debated it. Her boss was wearing a sweater with a snowman on it. Her boss was wearing a cute smirk and grin, challenging her to do more. She needed a drink right now, all of a sudden. And so, she took it. She closed the door behind her and sat across the desk in the dimly lit room.

“Thanks.”

“I’ve had a few. I can be festive.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You really do dislike me, don’t you?”

“Don’t you?” Clarke challenged, hissing from the bite of the drink.

“Hate you?”

“Yeah.”

Lexa smirked and looked away. Her office had little action figures of the games they made. She made her money after MIT when her and her sister started the firm, and they wanted to build the best stories they could. Now she had this problem.

“I don’t hate you,” she sighed. “I’m madly in love with you.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’ve had a few drinks. Don’t let me remember this, please?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Sure.”

The Christmas lights in the office were a yellow glow against the walls. Clarke didn’t want to know the truth, and she didn’t want to look at Lexa’s face, so against her better judgement, she dug into her shirt pocket and pulled out the joint Monty gave her.

“Do you mind?” Lexa rummaged in her desk and slid a lighter across. “Do you want to…?”

“I thought you hated me?”

“I hate work-Lexa. This drunk Lexa is kind of growing on me,” Clarke confessed.

The boss, the co-founder, the signer of paychecks nodded at the answer and pushed herself up from her chair, wobbling slightly and righting herself to take a swig of the rest of her drink. It was then that Clarke realized how drunk the boss must have been, hidden well below that annoyingly stoic display.

And so she did all that she could– she cupped the lighter and she inhaled. Before handing it over to the girl that sat across from her.

It was annoying that even inhaling and leaning back, even drunk and inarticulate, Lexa was annoyingly pretty. It was worse that Clarke was thinking those things.

“You said you were in love with me?” she swallowed.

“Oh yeah. Hard,” Lexa nodded, handing it back over. “Since the day you started.”

“Then why are you a jerk?”

“I don’t know how to say words near you.” Clarke smiled to herself at the confession. “So sometimes I just stick to work. It’s safer.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“So much,” she chuckled. “What’s wrong with you?”

“My boss is an ass and I can’t stop thinking about kissing her now.”

“Good.”

“Shut up.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and inhaled again. She was sitting in her bosses office, sharing a joint, and she was professing unprofessional things to the woman she hated. It was the Christmas party to end all Christmas parties, and so she didn’t want to do anything else at all, and she didn’t want time or anything else to continue. She wanted to sit there and not remember, though she knew already that she was too sober to forget.

They sat in silence for a bit, for a few minutes, or at least as quiet as they could be in the loud rager happening just outside the door.

“I mean, should I kiss you?” Lexa finally asked, just realizing what was happening in her little slice of the world.

“I might still hate you,” Clarke shrugged.

“But maybe not?”

“No, I still hate you.”

“But you think I’m cute?”

“Just shut up.”

It wasn’t dark, but it was dim in the office. Clarke sat low in the chair, relaxing and melting into it. Lexa watched her, and she wondered what was going to happen. She always cared about everything that people thought. She cared about bills and decisions and life and her work and keeping it afloat. For now though, she wasn’t sure what she cared about.

So Lexa didn’t care or think. She pushed herself forward, leaned a bit toward the other chair, and she held herself close, waiting for the girl she had a massive crush on, a crush that her sister mocked her for relentlessly, to stop her. But Clarke didn’t do anything except hold her breath and look at her lips before licking her own.

“Not a little cute?” Lexa ventured.

“Shut up.”

Lexa did what she was told. She shut up and she kissed her employee and only vaguely did she think of the sexual harassment suit that would inevitably be waiting for her in the morning. She kissed Clarke and held onto the arms of the chair because if she let go, she’d touch Clarke and that would mean she wouldn’t stop.

The part that made her nervous was that Clarke kissed her back, or so she thought.

“Merry Christmas,” Lexa whispered.

* * *

For being the most sober person at the party, it did Clarke absolutely no good at all. She still somehow ended up making out with her boss in her office after sharing a joint and drink with her.

And it was a dirty make out.

A filthy make out, even. It wasn’t supposed to be. Clarke didn’t mean for it to be, but somehow she ended up breathless and with a bruise on her neck. Somehow, and again, she was not sure how, she was in Lexa’s lap and she was grinding into it.

Lexa was a good kisser. That was a problem. The bigger problem was that Clarke couldn’t stop thinking about it, and she couldn’t avoid Lexa, though she tried valiantly.

After the break of the holiday, before New Years, Clarke found herself ducking in and out of offices and meetings to avoid the perfectly coiffed and well mannered boss. If she didn’t see her, then she didn’t have to see that she had a bruise that lingered on her neck, or that she hated her and didn’t hate her and was too proud to admit anything or either of them.

Instead, Clarke skipped out of line at the coffee cart when she saw Lexa approach, bag on her shoulder and smiling as she talked to her sister. And later in the day, she put her headphones on and worked harder than ever before, just to avoid being around any meetings or office small talk as everyone continued to joke about that stupid party.

It was only when she let her guard down that she got caught.

“Clarke,” Lexa nodded as they both somehow ended up walking close to each other. “Have a good holiday?”

“What? Me? Yeah. Yeah. Fine.”

“Okay then. I’ll expect that concept art for the setting to be on my desk first thing tomorrow.”

Clarke stopped walking as Lexa took a few more steps toward the exit. Only then did she stop and turn to find her employee paused and with that wrathful kind of look on her face. She loves that look, though she couldn’t pinpoint why.

“You’re an ass.”

“Clarke–”

“I was perfectly fine hating you and then you went and did all of that junk.”

“Junk?”

“You know what you did!”

Lexa smirked. She didn’t mean to smirk, but she did. She smirked and put her hands on her hips, not caring too much about the looks they got from a few other people near them.

“It was a Christmas Party,” Lexa explained. “We don’t have to think about it ever again.”

“Well I would have been happy enough for that, but you had to bring it up.”

“I said hello.”

“You know what you did!” Clarke complained.

“I honestly don’t.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Do you want to go out sometime?”

“What?”

Lexa didn’t think of anything other than the twelve kinds of emotions that passed across the artist’s face. She felt very tiny and regret everything that led to that moment.

“With me?”

Clarke frowned and stared back at her boss like she grew two heads. She knew what she had to say, though it didn’t quite work.

“Yeah. Fine. Okay. Good.”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever. Yeah.”

“Okay,” Lexa smiled, relaxing slightly.

“Shut up.”


	17. Day 17- MASH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mash Christmas! (Let them get their friggin' popsicles, haha.)

“Again?”

“I’m injury prone,” she shrugged, her smirk full of mischief and that eye-batting kind of knowledge that it was effective against the good doctor.

The person holding her chart didn’t smile or even give her the time of day. In truth, Clarke was angry and sick of seeing the stupid name of the stupid soldier on a chart in her clinic because that meant she was hurt, in some kind of way.

“I’m also madly in love with you,” Lexa grunted as hands started to press on her abdomen, hitting a sore spot.

“Being shirtless often in my clinic doesn’t equate to love.”

“It might.”

“Scale of one to ten, where’s the pain?”

“Two,” Lexa managed through gritting teeth. Her doctor pressed hard against her stomach and earned another huff of hidden pain.

“Lexa,” Clarke warned.

“Fine. Six. Maybe an eight.”

“So like a fifteen for normal people?”

“Yeah, sure,” she smiled.

It was a thing of beauty to watch Clarke tug the stethoscope from her neck and press it to her own chest. Lexa liked watching her. In fact, she frequently got hell from her squadmates for sneaking peeks at the doctor across the yard or canteen or hall. But she didn’t care at all. She liked watching her. It made her forget that she was here and that she was afraid sometimes. The pain was worth it.

“Deep breath for me,” Clarke asked, doing that cute little furrow when she listened.

“I’m fine, really.”

“You were almost blown up. You have extensive bruising on your chest, broken ribs, and I need to check for internal bleeding.”

“But the view isn’t terrible, is it?” she grinned, looking down at her exposed abs that were now starting to purple.

“Let’s get you drugged up and fixed so you can go undo all of my work again, okay?”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

Morphine Lexa was Clarke’s favorite. That’s not true. Working out Lexa was her favorite. But Morphine Lexa was a very close second. The sweaty Lexa with the sticky hair and the muscles and the smile and the body littered with tattoos and scars-- that was something. That did something to the reptilian side of Clarke’s brain that just sounded like a submarine about to dive or a warning of an impending tornado, but instead of the annoying blaring noise, the word SEX flashed and screamed in her head in big flashing lights. That was it. Those were her only thoughts. Just those, on repeat.

Morphine Lexa did that thing to Clarke that didn’t necessarily dull those glaring sirens. It did this thing that quieted them and took them out to dinner with candlelight. This Lexa was romantic. This Lexa made Clarke reconsider, until she looked at her scans and remembered that it would be emotional suicide to fall in love with someone who was so obviously in line with a deathwish.

But then morphine Lexa did the thing with the smile and the honesty and the poems and the nice questions and polite conversation. And she called people beautiful and that was enough.

“Don’t you get to go home in the new year?” Lexa asked, lulling her head to the side, and squinting up her nose.

“I’m supposed to,” the doctor nodded as she positioned the scan over the bruised stomach. “But someone keeps getting hurt.”

“It’s almost Christmas.”

“I noticed the decorations.”

“I love Christmas.”

“Do you?” she smiled slightly as she took her pictures.

“My mom makes lots of cookies. We go see the lights up on Mount Washington. There’s snow. I miss the snow so much sometimes it hurts. My body hurts.”

“Is it in your ribs or more in your stomach?” Clarke worried, stopping her work.

“No, my body hurts from lack of snow. I am a snow person. I love snow. Did you know that about me?” Lexa asked, watching the doctor move around. “Your butt is really nice. I like your butt. A lot. I should play it cool and not say that but you need to know. I would like to touch it one day.”

“You’re high.”

“I miss snow.”

Clarke smiled to herself and searched the scan for any bleeds, and was slightly grateful to find that there were none.

“Your scans look good. Just three broken ribs. I’m keeping you overnight to watch your lungs,” the doctor decided.

“You can keep me forever. You’re so pretty. Have I told you that?”

“You have. The last time you were on drugs and injured in my clinic.”

“I see in poems when you’re around,” Lexa whispered, her mouth all dry and sticky in the heat of the winter month. “Sometimes I see you when you’re at work and I like when your hair is in a ponytail and you wipe away sweat with your wrist. And you get covered in blood because you save people’s lives. And you dance when you’re sad and drunk and I love that.”

“You see in poems?”

“I’m not concussed, but you can do that light thing in my eyes if you want,” she offered. “I like when you do that a lot. You have pretty eyes.”

“Lexa.”

“It’s almost Christmas,” the soldier shrugged. “Let me be in love with you.”

“Lex…”

“Mis palabras llovieron sobre ti acariciándote. Amé desde hace tiempo tu cuerpo de nácar soleado. Hasta te creo dueña del universo. Te traeré de las montañas flores alegres, copihues, avellanas oscuras, y cestas silvestres de besos,” Lexa recited with a loopy grin. “Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos.”

“Stop it.”

“Que la primavera hace con los cerezos,” she repeated.

“Stop it.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s not… just… I have to go see my other patients.”

“I’ll write you more poems.”

“You didn’t write that. What did it mean?”

“Ask Neruda.”

Eyes closed, Lexa laughed at her own joke and drifted in and out with the drugs and the feeling of floating away from the heat and the season and she shivered in the snow of her street. The war raged on outside, even in the heat. But Lexa didn’t care, and for an afternoon, at least, she was safe. That was a lot for Clarke.

“You’ll be okay?” the doctor asked in the quiet as she put her stethoscope back on her neck. “Take it easy and rest. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

“My guys are okay?”

“I think so. I’ll check to make sure.”

Clarke leaned against the bed and looked down at her drugged patient. After a few minutes, she earned a squint.

“Hey, princess, you have a little thing…” she pointed at her shirt. As soon as Clarke looked down, the soldier tugged there, surprising her with a kiss. It deepened though, and she took it.

Clarke relaxed into it and it wasn’t until Lexa winced because she touched her ribs. The pain flared up in her and she grunted.

“I didn’t know you spoke Spanish.”

“I’m a complex individual, Doctor Clarke.” The screwy, doped look on her face said otherwise. “Can you get me a popsicle?”

* * *

It was hot. It was December and it was hot. Even just a few minutes walking across the base, the sweat stuck to her back and neck, but still, she kept going, doing her best to shield the frozen treats from the blaring sun.

There was a palm tree with lights and ornaments in the middle of the street, and it was just plain annoying to see. Lexa missed sledding. She missed snowball fights. She missed everything about winter. Most days, she didn’t miss home. She didn’t have that longing for her family, and yet on Christmas day, she felt that pang.

And with that pang, she found herself making up a reason to go to the clinic.

“Merry Christmas, Doctor Griffin,” she offered. “I thought I’d return the favor and bring you a popsicle.”

“And part of you isn’t hanging off by a thread? No blood? No tweaked or twisted or mangled body parts?”

“Nope, not today.”

“Merry Christmas, Lieutenant.”

Clarke took the popsicle that was offered to her, dropping her pen on the desk, grateful for the break from her paperwork. The holiday was quiet on the front, and it was quiet for her, which was a blessing and gift that she would take any day.

“Did you know that I love Christmas?”

“I did, actually,” Clarke smiled.

“I thought we agreed to not talk about my morphine confessions.”

“It’s too much fun to mock you.”

“I get that a lot.”

“I’m glad you stopped by, actually,” the doctor squinted slightly as she enjoyed her treat. It was her favorite flavor, and she was already having one of the best Christmases that she could remember.

“Finally. Yes. Okay. So right here on the desk or in the back office?”

“Easy there, tiger,” the doctor rolled her eyes and licked her fingers as juice melted onto them. “Meet me behind the mess after dinner.”

“Behind the mess? Interesting choice.”

“Shut up.”

“I must be on Santa’s nice list, because this is exactly what I’ve been asking for.”

“Get out,” Clarke growled, yanking a folder from beneath the soldier’s ass on the edge of the desk. “Thanks for the popsicle.”

“Merry Christmas, Doc,” Lexa smiled, kissing Clarke’s cheek quickly before she could be swatted too badly. “See you later.”

* * *

“You’re late,” Clarke admonished as she pushed herself up from the back wall of the mess.

“It was the ice cream sundae bar tonight.”

It was a weak defense, but it really was Lexa’s reason. That and a weird kind of nerves about this surprise, because she was joking about the whole sex thing, but also not? So it was a toss up between what kind of nerves were winning at the moment.

“This will be better.”

“You certainly think very highly of yourself, princess.”

“Just shut up and let me do something nice for you.”

“Why?” Lexa furrowed and let herself be pushed towards a back door. “You don’t even like me that much.”

Clarke shook her head and knocked in a secret kind of way before waiting for her surprise to open the door.

“If I didn’t like you, you certainly wouldn’t have kissed me as much as I’ve let you.”

“That’s probably a good point.”

All the doctor did was nod when the back door was opened. The large man stepped aside and held it for them to pass. Lexa looked him up and down before being tugged by her doctor through the hubbub of the kitchen as everyone was simultaneously prepping for breakfast and cleaning up after dinner.

“Fifteen minutes,” the door opener nodded.

“So you have some interesting friends,” Lexa managed as he walked away and left them standing in front of another room.

“Stand right here,” Clarke ordered before digging in her bag and pulling out an apparatus. “And put this on.”

“This is turning into the kinkiest thing I’ve ever been involved in,” the soldier held up the headgear and looked back at her doctor. “Did not think you had it in you, princess.”

“Shut up and put it on.”

“I don’t think a Virtual Reality sex thing in the kitchen is a good Christmas present.”

“Lexa, I swear, you make giving a gift so difficult.”

There it was. The hands on the hips and the angry kind of scowl that Lexa found outrageously sexy for no reason at all other than the idea of a bossy doctor in bed. That was something that followed her around at night. That was an excellent dream.

So she put on the gear and waited expectantly.

The gust from the freezer sent a shiver up her spine, but still, Lexa let the doctor position her in the middle of it, still blacked out from her electronic blindfold.

“I’m not a miracle worker, and I can’t make snow,” Clarke mentioned, oddly amused by the soldier, very out of her element, with arms outstretched. She clicked a few things and made something appear on the screen. “But I can take you home a little bit.”

“What?”

“Just hush. Can you see it?”

“Clarke, it’s freezing in here,” Lexa complained until the images started to make sense.

A familiar city appeared, with snow-lined streets, with bridges and cars and rivers galore. Lexa smiled and squinted, staring at the scene as it developed.

“Welcome to winter,” the doctor smiled as the soldier smiled and looked around, taking in the simulation.

“You got me winter,” Lexa breathed, her skin shivering despite how happy she was at this scene.

It was a Christmas miracle, and for fifteen minutes, Lexa was very homesick and very much at home.

“This might mean you like me,” the soldier tried.

“Get me a popsicle.”


	18. Day 18- District

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke missed the holidays that first year in The District. It would be interesting to see how that changes in the following years. Maybe Clarke finally having that dinner with Lexa’s family (the one with the rain cheque).

Outside, in the streets, a lone plow roved quietly. The light atop it spun, casting an orange beacon as it pushed aside the accumulation. The trees and the lamp posts held ornaments and Christmas lights so that the street was a slice of a winter wonderland, and no one noticed at all in the late hour save for the driver of the plow.

In the apartment above the flower shop, the bodies in the bed didn’t notice the plow at all, at least not completely. The cat did. He stretched, kicking his butt up before arching his back and spreading his toes and shaking his head and hopping down with a faint meow. The bodies didn’t though. They didn’t even notice that he meandered around and sniffed that the little tree that rested on the desk, or that he rubbed himself against the presents that remained there.

No, in the apartment atop the flower shop, no one cared about the plow or the lights or the late hour. Instead, Lexa rolled over and dug her nose into her girlfriend’s shoulder, burrowing below her back, suffocating herself in the best kind of way.

The plow made the return trip and Clarke adjusted from the body trying to wiggle under her. She shifted and tangled their legs together, earning a floppy, tattooed girl blanketing her. The hours ticked by and it became Christmas while they slept.

After an ample bath and a midnight snack, Wagner made his way to the window where he watched the lights before growing bored of the chill in the air, and retreated back to a spot on the bed near the warm bodies.

Sandwiched between a cat against her shoulder and a lawyer who drooled just a little bit, Lexa slid her hand under her girlfriend’s shirt and slept a little longer.

* * *

“Monica with two US Open wins,” Lexa muttered as she tried to work around it.

“Work around it.”

“I’m trying.”

“You’re really bad at those,” Clarke sighed and turned the page in her new book, which was a gift that she loved.

“It’s Sundays. It’s the hardest one. It’s barely in English,” she rolled her eyes with the explanation. “It’s practically impossible.”

“Sounds like a lot of excuses.”

“You look cute, did you know that?”

“Work around it.”

Lexa shook her head and turned back to her puzzle while her girlfriend read. The train trucked along toward home and dinner and family, and the artist smiled to herself because she was part of a couple that got invited to dinner. That was something new and different and not at all terrifying.

She was someone who got some pretty good presents for her girlfriend, and who wore the new beanie happily that she got in her little stocking. Lexa was utterly unrecognizable and still, she was very happy with it.

Sometimes, she got weird looks, which she was accustomed to, with being covered in tattoos. Deep down, she knew Clarke was the one getting them. People couldn’t comprehend that Lexa was someone that someone like Clarke would date. Lexa barely believed it. But she felt good and happy and maybe it was the season, but maybe it was also just being in love. Another terrifying notion.

“You sure you like me?” Lexa asked as she grabbed their duffle and walked toward the grand concourse.

“Pretty sure, yeah,” Clarke smiled and held her girlfriend’s free hand. “Why?”

“Family dinners are… They’re a lot in my family.”

“I’ve met your family. Remember? They had me reading contracts and wills.”

“That was different.”

“Oh hush,” Clarke sighed as they made their way outside.

If there was one thing the lawyer loved, it was Lexa’s ability to be very nervous and keep it relatively hidden. She was an emotional toddler, oscillating between happy and worried, and it led to a lot of mixed feelings when new experiences came to be. Clarke liked that she made the beautiful, confident, dry, brilliant, talented, sexy– super sexy, ridiculously sexy and tattoo-covered and ab-owning– girl a little frazzled. No one else knew about the dork who drummed on cars when she got excited after a kiss.

New York at Christmastime was a thing of beauty, and even though they were in a crunch to arrive last to dinner, Lexa took a bit of her time to show Clarke a few things. They took pictures in front of large trees, and they gave money to people still ringing bells. It was the holiday, and both were madly in love.

The truth of the matter was, once they made it to the house filled with family, that Clarke was terribly nervous. She wanted to be the person Lexa’s family thought she was, and she wanted to be someone that they liked. She had fake confidence. She could pretend to make Lexa relax, but deep down, she was afraid of family.

Six years of college and internships only taught her how to work. Being a person with other people was very different and new. Clarke wasn’t much more emotionally developed than the artist who ate cereal for dinner. Though she’d never admit it.

“Finally!” an exasperated little girl answered the door.

“Aunt Lexa!”

Little arms and bodies launched themselves at Lexa so that she dropped the bag and swung them around with a laugh.

“Hi there buttheads,” she laughed, hugging the two bodies tightly. Two more followed, a little slower, a little younger, until she was covered in kids. “I’m drowning”

Clarke recognized some of them, the others she hadn’t seen the last time she was there. But each of them adored their aunt, hugging her tightly and excitedly.

“You made it,” Anya greeted Clarke while her sister was inundated with questions and requests and stories, all from four mouths chattering at once.

“I got a mini tour of the city, but yeah, as quick as we could.”

“Get in here out of the cold!” the matriarch of the family bellowed from the back.

And just like that, Clarke was sucked into it.

* * *

“No, no!” Clarke explained, talking over the gathering of Woods. “She really did. She gave my boss a tattoo. And they had lunch and talked about flags. Your sister is friends with a Supreme Court Justice.”

“He kicked my ass at dominos though,” Lexa shrugged.

Clarke ran her hand along her girlfriend’s neck, tugged on her ear, smiled that awe-inspired smile and laughed before looking back at the now cleared table.

Dinner was huge and big and delicious and great. It was loud and full of stories and Lexa talking and yelling toward her brothers and sisters. While even a few of the clan couldn’t make it, there were still so many of them that it was daunting.

Presents still remained under the tree, waiting for those who hadn’t made it earlier to open theirs. The lights began to glow as the day wanted to end. Soon the decorations wouldn’t matter, but now, for a final night, they were relevant. The house that housed the huge family, with its small front yard and its inability to have one quiet spot, with the decorations and the lumpy snowman in the yard, it was very alive and warm.

“They’re a handsome couple, aren’t they?” Gabby mused as she sipped her wine from the head of the table. “Precious.”

“Mãe,” Lexa groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Acho que somos um trela bonito,” Clarke tried.

“Um casal,” her girlfriend corrected.

“What was that?” Gus gawked. “Did you hear that? How come you don’t do that?”

“You’re making us look bad,” Luna’s husband complained with a grin.

“She thinks she’s better than she is,” Lexa promised.

“You said I was doing good!” Clarke barked.

“Don’t listen. That was great,” the mother told her before scolding the other kids at the table who mimicked the bad accent.

“Don’t be too impressed,” Lexa continued, earning a nudge. “She wants to learn so that we can talk to each other in public without anyone knowing, and she wants to know what we say when we talk about her.”

“What other reasons are there?”

“For the kids! To teach your kids!”

“Oh yeah, um. Sure,” Clarke nodded quickly before looking at Lexa helplessly. “The kids.”

“Senhor, me salve,” Lexa groaned before earning laughs at her own expense.

Clarke smiled and rested her cheek on Lexa’s shoulder. She earned a kiss there and she chuckled at the teasing that developed. It was a perfect dinner and it was a perfect time for them.

* * *

The decorations that once crowded the corner of the basement were all up on the house, illuminating it and the rest of the neighborhood. The bedrooms upstairs housed couples and the couches found kids sneaking cookies and playing with presents. But down in the basement, no one noticed the two crammed onto an old futon with an old comforter from a baseball team that had since revamped their logo at least twice.

“It was a long day,” Lexa yawned.

“It was a great day though.”

In the dim basement, the flashing light of a slow-moving plow flashed in a thin band across the beams and joints above them. Little feet walked around above them, herded up and tossed toward sleep.

Lexa dug her nose into her girlfriend’s shoulder. She kissed her neck and smiled as she inhaled that mix of Clarke and her mother’s house. It became her favorite smell, right there.

“This was a good first Christmas together.”

“It was.”

“Next year, we can go to your family’s if you want.”

“And miss this? Never,” Clarke hummed. “I’m a fan of this futon and you.”

“Quero em teus lábio beber. Os teus amores do céu, quero em teu seio morrer. No enlevo do seio teu. Quero viver d'esperança,” Lexa recited, carefully kissing between words as her hand slid up Clarke’s stomach and cupped her softly.

Clarke closed her eyes and gulped. She pressed into her girlfriend.


	19. Day 19- Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe one where Lexa spends Christmas alone and somehow spends the entire day with Clarke, a complete stranger, and they fall in love.

“No big plans today?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I asked if you were doing anything special today,” the girl on the train asked.

Lexa barely looked up. She didn’t really care to hear anything, and she just wanted to ride her train and read her book. That was all she wanted from the day. In an empty car, she expected that to be easy to achieve.

She wasn’t a grinch. She actually once loved the holiday season. But things got hard, and life got real, and sometimes those kinds of things are enough to pull someone apart at the seams. Lexa was pulled apart at the seams and all of her stuffing was coming out, and so she did not particularly care about the holiday spirit. Her life didn’t have times anymore. She just worked and tried to figure out the next step.

“I’m Jewish,” she deadpanned.

“Are you really?”

“Sometimes.”

She earned a laugh and that made her look up from her book to find the bluest eyes that anyone ever had a right to own. The laugh wasn’t terrible either.

“How are you sometimes Jewish?”

“My mom was,” she managed, gaping slightly before figuring out she must look like an idiot or at least a fish out of water, mouth moving and breathless.

“Okay, that’s a legitimate reason,” the stranger nodded before adjusting her mittens and leaning back in her seat on the opposite side of the train. “I love hearing people’s plans. Always have. Their faces light up and they get sentimental, pretend they aren’t looking forward to being around family, when secretly they are. It’s nice.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“No, no, you didn’t,” she promised quickly. “Did you light candles?”

“I haven’t done that in years.”

“So you don’t celebrate anything?”

It was the head-cock that made Lexa smile before becoming more self-conscious. She put her finger over the edge of her book and closed it on her lap, unable to finish or ignore a stranger who looked at her like she was a puzzle.

“I’m a big fan of President’s Day.”

The laugh. The laugh echoed along with the sound of rails and brakes and the train slowing around a bend as they approached a different neighborhood. Lexa smiled to herself, oddly wanting more of it.

“You’re funny.”

“I try.”

“Well, now I need to know why you are riding the train around on Christmas morning, if you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind telling a complete stranger the intricacies of my life?”

“You know what,” she leaned forward, her face slipping to serious quite quickly, as if she were relieved with Lexa’s statement. “I agree wit that completely. I wish more people did. I love watching people. I consider myself an expert.”

“What makes you an expert?” Lexa challenged.

“I spend a lot of time watching people.”

“That’s a profession?”

“Hobby,” she decided. “Now. What brings you to my train?”

Lexa eyed the stranger before taking a deep breath and ducking her head. It was hard enough to confess to herself, and yet there she was, spilling it all to a stranger who had a nice smile and a pretty face. It was maddening how absolutely gay she was sometimes.

“Hiding.”

“You’re doing a terrible job. I found you straight away.”

“From my family,” Lexa groaned, tilting her head back as she tugged on her own neck. “They all feel bad for me right now. They’ll have too many questions. They worry. I hate seeing them worry.”

“Worry about what?”

“I broke up with my fiancée a month ago.”

“That is worrisome,” the stranger nodded, full-on shrink mode engaged, a deep crease appearing between her eyebrows as she listened.

“I found her and her friend from work naked in my shower. And I loved that shower.”

“And now your family is worried.”

“I just… I can’t face them all. Not all at once. So I told them I had to work.”

“What kind of work do you do that they’d believe that on Christmas?”

“They didn’t believe it,” she sighed. “I own my own business. Kind of. It’s. Just. They…. They pretended to believe me, which was good enough for me. It was the best present they could give me, honestly.”

“So you’re just going to ride the train all day?”

“And read this book.”

“That’s pitiful.”

“Thanks.”

The stranger crossed her arms and leaned back in the seat, huffing to herself, clearly agitated with Lexa’s reasoning. Clearly, the day was important to her, though Lexa could never quite understand how people got excited about it to the extent they did.

“Why are you riding the train alone in the morning?” Lexa countered, cocking an eyebrow, enjoying the transition of power. “If you love the day so much.”

“Because I--” she faltered and debated her answer. “I’m hiding too.”

“This reminds me of glass houses and kettles and such.”

“I’m still going to celebrate,” she challenged. “I have lots of plans for my own Christmas.”

“Is that right?”

“I’ve spent the entire past year unable to do what I want. Today, I’m going to embrace the miracle.”

“That’s lofty ambitions.”

“They are,” she smiled to herself as she stood. “I’m Clarke.”

“Lexa,” she offered, sticking out her hand and taking the mittened one offered by the girl with a yellow hat and blue eyes and a homemade scarf. “Merry Christmas to you.”

“Happy holidays.”

“Thanks.”

The girl stood by the door and debated something before turning her back to the girl that remained sitting. They approached the next station and the voice announced something about minding something, but both felt oddly different after their talk.

“Do you want to celebrate with me?” Clarke asked, turning around as the train slowed.

“Um. I mean. Well. We just-- there’s. You don’t--”

“I think you have to ask yourself one thing,” she interrupted the ramble as the doors opened. “Why not?”

With a smile, she stepped out onto the platform and waited until the doors closed before she opened her eyes.

* * *

The city was quiet with the holiday, the little neighborhood was nearly empty in the early hour of the morning. Still, Clarke hadn’t expected the girl to get off of the train. That was an unexpected bonus to her day.

The stranger just looked so sad on the train, and so very lonely. Clarke was an expert in all of that, for she found herself lonely often, and she was just as lost as the rest.

“So she cheated on you,” Clarke started, because she was good at human interactions. “How long were you together?”

“I don’t think I signed up for this kind of questioning.”

“You sure did.”

Lexa scowled and looked noticeably uncomfortable, but still, she sat at the booth of the diner that Clarke ducked them into, she tugged off her gloves and tossed her bag into the corner.

“Four years.”

“An entire presidency.”

“Something like that.”

The waitress came around and Lexa ordered coffee while Clarke dove right into the menu, promising to share. Someone might have confused them for friends, if they were to look. But the diner was empty except for the singular waitress and the cook in the back with the Christmas music blaring over an old radio.

“Why did she cheat on you, do you think? You look like a reasonably respectable member of society. Unless you’re a secret murderer?”

Lexa smiled slightly at the question before turning it on the waitress who filled up her mug. She flapped the sugar packet before adding it to her coffee.

“I honestly don’t know what happened.”

“Workaholic?”

“Sometimes.”

“Is this like the Jewish thing, where you really are?”

“I’m a cop. Sometimes I work overtime, sometimes things come up, but most of the time I think I’m pretty attentive.”

“Be honest.”

“Really though,” Lexa answered as she thought about it. “I thought we were happy. Maybe we were happy. Maybe it was just me.”

“Give me your pitch then. How would you sell yourself to someone.”

“What?”

The first bit of breakfast appeared and Clarke thanked the waitress before offering some to her new friend.

“Give me the most honest assessment of yourself and I’ll share my bacon.” The stranger across from her looked on skeptically. “Come on. What else are you going to do today?”

“I have a book.”

“Stubborn. That’s one that you should put in this assessment.”

‘I’m not.”

“Stubborn and a thief,” Clarke complained as her bacon was stolen anyway.

It was easy to fall into a rhythm with the stranger. Clarke liked her smile and her eyes and the nervousness that came with an unease in new surroundings. She liked that about people often.

“This is stupid.”

“Condescending, stubborn, inflexible.”

“Just… give me a second,” Lexa held up her hand and exhaled through her nose in an angry gust.

“Take your time.”

With a mouthful of food, Clarke chewed happily and smiled, waiting for the results of the quick self-evaluation that might have led to this exact day. It wasn’t a lie that Lexa liked her family. She even missed them for the holiday. She just was humiliated. That was the most honest theory.

The stranger stole a bite of pancakes as they came out from the kitchen as she mulled and thanked the waitress for the second cup of coffee.

“I’m not a bad person,” Lexa decided. “I have a good job that I love. I think I’m happy most of the time. I think… I mean… mostly, I want to be someone that isn't miserable, and for most of my life I think that’s been true. I know, because I’ve been miserable the past few months.”

“That’s not really selling yourself though. Tell me why I should ate you.”

“I don’t want you to date me.”

“You don’t know that,” Clarke muttered. “I’m a catch. Here, this is how it’s done.”

“This should be good,” Lexa rolled her eyes and took a piece of toast.

“I’m cute. I’m not conceited, but I’m definitely a little cute. And you think so, because you got off the train,” she wagered. “You don’t know it, but I’m a pretty good cook. I’m well-read. I have a degree in art therapy. I sometimes sneak out for day-long adventures. I donate to charity. I volunteer at the hospital. I’m a catch.”

“Where’s the fine print?”

“I’m stubborn and silly and I’m a bit of a know-it-all.”

“Oh, that’s all?”

“Your turn. Try again.”

“I’m a fun-loving cop with a penchant for dwelling too much in her own head. I have a temper and get a little stubborn, but I’m a good person, and I’d never cheat on someone.”

“See,” Clarke chuckled. “That almost made me want to date you.”

“So why did she cheat on me?”

“You must be terrible in bed.”

“I’m! No. That’s! No way. I’m great. In… I’m great in bed!” she sputtered.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m great in bed. Earth-shatteringly good.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it. She cheated because she wasn’t in love with me. Not the sex.”

“That sounds more believable.”

“I’m good at sex,” Lexa promised, suddenly anxious. “Just. Shut up.”

“Okay,” Clarke chuckled and sipped her coffee.

* * *

“Everything is closed,” Lexa repeated as Clarke stared at another locked fence.

They made their way out into the world after the diner, and they made it to a few different places in the search to find Clarke’s ice skating rink that she dreamt about. The streets had the occasional body or grinch, but still, they city remained almost unusually theirs.

Aimlessly, Lexa followed and talked with the stranger. She had nothing else to do, and weirdly enough, she liked being open with her. She liked how it was, to walk around and laugh and celebrate the day in quiet ways.

Clarke was right, when she said she was cute and funny. That was a problem.

“I don’t understand this dire need to go ice skating.”

“How many Christmases do we have? I can’t waste one not ice skating.”

“That’s both dismal and uplifting at the same time.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much me.”

Lexa was a sucker. She was hopelessly gay and it was snowing and Clarke had snow in her hair so that she looked like a princess. Lexa was a sucker for a damn princess.

“I’m a do-er,” Lexa decided.

From her spot with her hands linked into the chain of the fence, Clarke furrowed and looked at the girl beside her with her hands dug deep in her own pockets. She searched the stranger’s face and tried to figure it out.

“Add it to my list. I’m a do-er and I’m a romantic, and I’m a sucker for girls with eyes like yours.”

The smile grew in proportion with the snow that started to fall, and Lexa nodded to herself and with the confession before making her way down the block, a curious blonde following.

* * *

‘You eat a lot,” the cop observed as her new friend offered to share her newly acquired candy.

“That’s never a nice thing to tell a lady.”

The train rolled on and the pair sat closer this time, debating the qualities of a good piece of candy. The afternoon was marred with the snowfall, with new inches accumulating, but no one really noticed them at all, or rather, there was no one to notice them.

Clarke enjoyed the stranger. She enjoyed her escape and she enjoyed her Christmas.

“So you love Christmas, and yet you’re spending it with a stranger, roving all over the city,” Lexa observed, taking a handful of treats anyway.

“I’m spending it how I want to spend it,” Clarke promised. “My mom works constantly. My dad died about five years ago. I don’t like intruding on friends, and I have some place to be next week, so I couldn’t go anywhere else.”

“I’m sorry-- I didn’t know.”

“I’m fine with it.”

“Yeah, but you listened to me just being humiliated and not being near my family, but I have one. I feel like a jerk.”

“You don’t need a reason for choosing to do something to make yourself happy, Lexa,” she promised, shaking the bag. “No judgements.”

“Tell that to my mother,” she grunted before standing and holding out her hand.

It happened by accident, that Clarke kept holding onto the stranger’s hand. Of course, it was a stranger who wasn’t a stranger any longer. It was a stranger who knew about her dressing up as a shark for fifth grade Halloween and that she enjoyed peanut butter on her burgers. Strangers don’t know those things.

“So you’re a do-er?” Clarke decided, as they left the station and were met with a distinct kind of cold once again in the Christmas day.

“I sure try to be.”

“I’m oddly nervous as to what this entails.”

“I got off a train with a weirdo who wouldn’t shut up this morning,” Lexa reminded her. “You don’t get to be nervous.”

“Fair enough.”

They wove through the streets, not rushing, but not really interested in stopping for anything. Instead, they talked. They let the winter turn their breath to clouds and they laughed or worried or fret or joked or teased. It was like coming home. It was like talking to a friend both had forgotten, but instantly knew and understood. It was a very weird feeling.

“It’s closed, oh mighty do-er,” Clarke teased as they were met with another locked door and sign that blared ‘closed.’ “I appreciate the effort.”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeves.”

“Is that so?”

“Add magician to my list of attributes,” Lexa smirked before tugging Clarke toward the entrance to the high school attached to the locked rink. “That’s the practice rink. This one is the real one for games,” she explained as they wove around.

“How did you know about this?”

“My sister’s husband plays pick up games sometimes.”

“What about skates?” Clarke asked, already impressed and not showing it.

“That’s going to be a little more work, but again--”

“You’re a do-er.”

“Exactly.”

Proud of herself, Lexa beamed as Clarke surveyed the pristine, untouched ice. She inhaled the smell of the cold, the manufactured chill to keep it frozen, and she felt at home once again.

* * *

“I didn’t think this through,” Lexa swallowed as she stood near the ledge, holding on tightly.

Apparently an ice angel, Clarke skated out easily, gracefully swooping and twisting as she got used to the feeling of it. In an instant, she slid right by the nervous cop in a pair of skates that were a bit too big for her.

“You’ve never skated before?” Clarke giggled, though she tried to hide it. After all, Lexa did perform a Christmas miracle. She deserved kindness. 

Though all Clarke could wonder was that if it happened on Christmas, was it a Christmas miracle if done by a Jewish girl? Was it a Jewish Miracle? Or did that happen during Hanukkah? Did Lexa’s ambiguity on what she celebrated factor into what kind of miracle it was? All these plagued Clarke until she saw Lexa nervously clinging to the boards.

“When I was five I did,” Lexa snorted.

“Here, let me help.”

“I don’t know. I’ll make you fall.”

“I’m fairly sturdy on my feet. If anyone is going to fall it’s--” Lexa went down as they almost made it to the middle of the ice. “You.”

Clarke waited for the swearing or the temper of the cop. She didn’t know her well, and yet she knew her well. She waited for something. What she got was a giggling Lexa with a huge smile as she rubbed her ass that would surely be bruised.

“Okay, that hurt,” Lexa laughed as Clarke helped her up.

“That’s just your pride that hurts.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Come on. Let me take you on a lap.”

Lexa made it around the rink a few times before holding Clarke’s hand and smiling and blushing was too much for her little heart to handle. Instead, she sat on a bleacher and watched Clarke move around the ice, a new kind of peace across her features.

Outside, the sun began to set and the streetlights came one. Lexa switched on the ights she could find, illuminating the rink, surely enough to get them found out if anyone were to look. She didn’t mind. She had Clarke and happiness.

“You look good out there,” Lexa offered as Clarke finally stepped off of the ice.

“I haven’t done that in years.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been… I don’t know,” Clarke shrugged as she held her hand to her chest, pressing there, keeping it in, keeping herself centered. “I’ve been preoccupied lately.”

“You should do this more often.”

“Break into high school gym rinks?”

“Yes,” Lexa nodded as the skater sat beside her.

They both watched the rink exist without anyone on it, just a flat, smooth surface in need of some roughing up. They basked in the Christmas, or whatever, miracle that somehow brought them together.

“Thank you for today,” Clarke whispered, finally turning her eyes on the girl beside her.

“I should be thanking you.”

“Yeah, you should,” she grinned.

“You should add ice ballerina to your dateable list.”

“Would that have put me over the top in your book?”

“Definitely,” Lexa smiled.

She wasn’t sure how they were leaning closer. She wasn’t sure how any of her day actually happened. Long forgotten was the book. Long forgotten was everything else that should have happened on that day. Instead, all she wanted to do was kiss Clarke.

“Your lips are turning blue. We should get you warmed up.”

“You should call an ambulance,” Clarke swallowed and pressed harder into her chest. “University Center Hospital.”

Her body fell towards Lexa’s a second later, slumping against her chest.

* * *

The decorations for the waiting room were ugly, plain and simple. Santa heads and reindeer bodies and presents of every shape and size were tacked up on the walls next to dreidels and menorahs. All of it was cartoonish, and all of it just reminded Lexa that the holiday was still happening, despite the location.

Worried and confused by the turn of her day, Lexa sat furrowed and angry and sulking in the corner of the waiting room, her thumb running along her jaw as her fist propped up her chin. She watched the comings and goings of the room, of the people, of the nurses and doctors and victims. Still, she didn’t know why she stayed.

She called the ambulance. She rode it down beside the girl she almost kissed. She watched the paramedics pound and hit and jab and poke and prod her body, while their voices murmured together into nothing but white noise. Lexa didn’t have answers to their questions. She didn’t know anything about Clarke. Not in the real sense. And yet, she knew what she looked like with snowflakes in her hair and eyelashes, and that was a moment.

“You came in with Clarke?” a woman in scrubs came out, her surgical gown billowing behind her, her scrub cap tugged down and shoved in a pocket.

“Yes. Yes, ma’am,” Lexa stood quickly and nodded. “Lexa Woods.”

“I’m Dr. Griffin, her mother.”

“It’s. Uh. Well. Nice to-- How is she?”

“Sit,” she offered graciously, clearly exhausted herself. Lexa took it eagerly and waited anxiously.

The woman looked like Clarke, in ways. Not the eye color, but the shape of them. Not the nose, precisely, but the placement of it. Lexa didn’t realize how much she’d memorized from staring at the princess all day. More than anything though, the doctor looked tired. Exhausted, even. She was a mess and finally, just finally, did she take a breath.

“How is she?” Lexa repeated, unable to wait.

“How long have you known my daughter?”

“Um,” the cop checked her watch, “sixteen hours, give or take.”

“You didn’t know about the tumor.”

“Tumor?”

“Clarke was scheduled for a tumor-removal surgery next week,” Dr. Griffin explained, leaning forward, keeping her voice level. “We had specialists coming in to operate. Her tumor sat in her lungs and was trying to get into her heart. It was risky, but we thought that we--”

“If you’re out here to tell me she’s dead, I-- I-- I just---”

“No, no, honey, no,” she promised, rubbing Lexa’s knee, squeezing her shoulder. “She’s still in surgery. I just thought-- a nurse told me you were waiting. The tumor broke through a vein and into a ventricle. It’s been eating at her more and more. They’re repairing her lungs and heart now. Trying to repair them.”

“Oh,” Lexa nodded, calming slightly. “I… I let her go skating. I helped her get in there. I didn’t know--”

“You didn’t know,” the doctor promised. “My daughter is convinced that this is her last Christmas. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s my own. I’ve kept her here too long, trying to keep an eye on things. She snuck out this morning, and I figured I should just let her walk it off, have some fresh air. There was no way-- We couldn’t have-- You didn’t do anything.”

“I didn’t know.”

“I know.”

“Is she going to be okay?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll let you know though, if you want to leave your number. I know you just met her. I’m sure my daughter wouldn’t want to worry you. You did a great thing by helping her.”

“I’ll wait, if that’s okay?” Lexa asked, finally looking up and meeting the doctor’s eyes. “I want to wait. She believed in miracles. Maybe I could help. I’m not much of a praying person. But I don’t know. I can sit here.”

“I’ll update you shortly,” the mother promised.

Lexa held her hand and earned a squeeze before the doctor pushed herself up and went back towards the operating room. The cop was left sitting there, just as confused as ever.

* * *

The wearing off of anesthesia was her least favorite thing. That and the pain in her chest that felt rough, that itched inside her skin and felt like a lot of pressure and throbbing, so that moving was a chore.

Clarke coughed and shook her head softly as she woke.

From the chair beside the bed, the half-asleep officer grunted in her sleep and turned over slightly in the chair. The first thing Clarke registered was Lexa, and her arms crossed tightly across her chest, wrapped up in herself. And the noises of coughing woke her as well, slowly at first, and then enough so that she was dropping her feet and leaning forward.

“Hey,” Clarke rasped.

“Hi there,” Lexa smiled, finally taking a breath.

“I’m-- I’m sorry.”

“Shh, hey. Here.”

Clarke tried to remember anything at all, but the last thoughts in her head were all panic and tumor-induced minus the minute she lost her chance to kiss a stranger like a normal girl. She drank the water Lexa held up for her and leaned back into her pillows when her throat felt less raw. It had been a long time since she’d been a normal girl.

“How long… what happened?”

“I met your mother,” Lexa smirked, pushing hair from Clarke’s face. Tenderly, she hovered and fret. “She told me you had to have surgery.”

“Did they get it? I’m alive?”

“You are very alive, and they did get it all. At least that was what your mom said. Did I mention I met your mom?”

“Sorry for that.”

“Should I get her?”

“No… no, please just. A few more minutes of peace.”

Lexa nodded and scooted her chair up a little closer to the edge of the bed while the stranger blinked and finally lifted a hand to rest atop her chest.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“How would I do that? I just wanted to go ice skating.”

“In case you died.”

“Yeah. In case I died.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I’m stubborn, remember?”

“Add tumor-free to your dateable profile.”

“Does that do it for you?” Clarke smirked and closed her eyes.

“It didn’t before, but it looks great on you.”

Lexa slipped her hand into Clarke’s and rested her chin on the edge of the bed railing. She hadn’t slept in a bed in three nights. She hadn’t moved from her chair in too long. Instead, she just sat there and waited and hoped for a miracle. 

“Do you want to get a coffee sometime?” Clarke turned her head and asked as she watched Lexa nod slightly, ready to fall asleep quickly.

“Yeah, I do,” Lexa agreed.

“At the rink, you were going to kiss me.”

“And it nearly killed you. I told you sex wasn’t my problem.”

The laugh she earned hurt, but Lexa was still proud to earn that and a blush while the monitors picked up an uptick in Clarke’s heart.

“We’ll see,” the patient nodded and coughed slightly before settling back into the bed, deeper and deeper, until she was falling asleep with the help of drugs and too much pain.

“Merry Christmas,” Lexa smiled and kissed Clarke’s knuckles.


	20. Day 20- Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re still taking Christmas prompts?!?! Sorry if this is a repeat ask, but Kids update? Charlie home from college for the holidays, brings home a significant other? A day Christmas shopping at he mall or creating homemade gifts? Just general update? I love how you write their “day in the life of” moments. Hope you and your loved ones are doing well. Thanks!

2:29PM

“Smells good in here,” Lexa hummed as she stomped her boots and tugged off her gloves.

The warmth of the home rushed to meet her frozen face. The smells of the kitchen were clove and cinnamon and that smell that haunts you at four am in April when the last cold day comes around for the final spurt of winter.

“We made cookies for Santa,” Huck explained as Lexa kissed his head and moved onto Harper.

“They look so good!” she cheered, stealing one and earning a lot of complaints from the worker elves at the kitchen island. “Mmm, they taste good.”

“Those are for Santa,” her wife complained as arms wrapped around her. Cold lips and a cold nose dug into her neck, making her giggle.

“Put me on the naughty list,” Lexa whispered, kissing neck and earning a nudge against her chest from her wife’s shoulder.

“Go shower, please. We have to finish and clean up.”

“Movies tonight!” Huck reminded his mothers. “Christmas movies!”

“That’s right,” Lexa promised. “Christmas movies. And popcorn. And cookies. And the Christmas book.”

“I want the green and red popcorn,” Dylan offered as he sprinkled candy onto a rather messy looking attempt at a sled in cookie form.

“And cocoa,” Harper nodded.

“Okay, Mom is going to go shower and we’ll clean up before dinner.”

“Hold on,” Lexa reached into a cabinet atop the bar and yanked out an old camera. “I want to remember this forever. Everyone hold up their cookie and smile.”

The flash went off a few seconds later, the picture popped out of the top and Lexa shook it, smiling. Slowly, Clarke and a few kids appeared began to appear, all with similar smiles and very ugly cookies. Lexa watched them appear as they went back to work, and she tucked it onto the corkboard behind the desk there.

2:40PM

The sweatshirt came next. Lexa tugged it over her head and tossed it down the basement as she walked into the living room. Her old workout shirt was sweaty and gross from her shovelling and playing outside.

“How’s it going, kids?”

A mumble of answers came back at her from the various lounging bodies in the living room and den. She kissed her son’s head as she walked by the couch toward the stairs. Music filled the living room, wafting down from the room upstairs. Lexa was not used to having it back, and she loved hearing Jack again.

“I am going to help the twins with their presents soon,” Charlie muttered. “Can you not come into the garage for an hour or so?”

“I think I can avoid it, yeah,” she nodded. “Any closer to making a decision on schools?”

“No.”

“You’ll figure it out. Just get it out of your head for a few days.”

“Go to CSU,” Henry reminded her. “They offered me a scholarship.”

“I’m not rooming with you,” the oldest rolled her eyes as she tossed her tablet across the couch. “Or being your DD all over town.”

“It’d be fun,” he shrugged.

“It would be closer to home,” their mother wagered.

“I’ll apply. But no promises.”

“Three of you in college,” Lexa winced. “It gets quieter and quieter here.”

“Yeah. Sucks,” Sawyer grunted.

“Agreed.”

7:58PM

Crowded around, the only lights in the living room were those on the large Christmas tree in the corner. The television played familiar favorites while the family dozed and cuddled and was all manner of festive in their new pyjamas courtesy of Grandma.

On one couch, two sons stretched out long and languid. Clarke found her lap taken over by Dylan’s head and her youngest daughter, tucking herself under her chin as she was known to do. On the floor, Charlie was a pillow for Huck and Harper, while Sawyer let her feet drop over her other mom’s lap as they shared the last of the popcorn.

“Okay, little ones are going to bed,” Clarke told them as the movie came to an end with a loud finishing musical number.

“We want to stay up for Santa!” Huck argued.

“He won’t come then,” Charlie reminded him. “Go on.”

“Say goodnight to everyone.”

It was a lot of work, to get the twins and Dylan and Harper into bed. It was a lot of effort to get it done, and took two adults multiple attempts and multiple Christmas stories, but still, they managed. Lexa kissed her kids’ foreheads and pulled their blankets up tight.

“Get some sleep. The sooner you sleep, the sooner we get to give presents,” Clarke reminded her daughter. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she yawned and waited for a tired that felt far off.

Upstairs was quiet and the kids were murmuring to each other as the parents met in the hall. Christmas cards hung on the wall and a bin of toys overflowed at one end.

“They’re exhausting,” Lexa complained as the mothers met at the stairs.

“One more,” Clarke teased, micking those fateful words that led to the fullness of their house. “It’ll be easy. Remember the baby smell? You conned me good, Woods.”

“They’re so cute though.”

“The twins are so big.”

“Only a few more Santa years left,” Lexa sighed and leaned against her wife. “That’s going to break my heart.”

“And then grandkids.”

“Charlie isn’t going to have kids until she’s out of school and has a job that covers student debt payments.”

“Just hush,” Clarke smiled and kissed the cop.

10:29PM

“Bullshit,” Charlie challenged as the cards were tossed into the middle. Her sister grinned and looked just like her mother.

“Flip them,” Sawyer laughed, bouncing slightly.

“How do you get me every time?”

“It’s the eyes. She’s got t hose dead eyes. Her competition eyes,” Jack explained, pushing around messy, long hair that he let grow now that he was on break from his music program on the east coast.

“Shark eyes,” Henry chuckled, earning some laughs from his family around the table.

The tradition to play games until the little kids fell asleep started with the mothers, just when they had Charlie, right from the beginning. Something about waiting for a four year old to sleep when promises of presents kept them awake, made time go by slowly.

“She’s unflappable. You should see her in the pool,” Lexa interrupted the mocking.

“Well it’s not fair,” the oldest complained as she began to add a large pile of cards to her hand.

The table got bigger every year. As the myth of reindeer and the magic of the season began to wear away from their kids, the games were elevated, and more and more, as Clarke looked around the table, it seemed like adults joined her and her wife. Somehow, they ended up with more teenagers than kids, more adults than teenagers. It was beautiful and terribly sad, all in one go.

Charlie was already applying to vet school, almost done with four years on the other side of the country. Jack was into his sophomore year at a music program in another corner of the country. Henry was fielding scholarship offers, though he hinted at wanting to stay a little closer to home than the older ones. He still wanted to be cop with his mother, which was a source of pride and worry. They were actually adults. Almost adults. They were humans with lives, and it was maddening. In just another year, Sawyer would be taking placement tests and applying to colleges. It made Clarke angry at time. It made their home empty, and only during times when everyone was together, did she realize how quiet it now got.

“I don’t know,” Lexa mused, catching her wife’s look. “She definitely looks sketchy.”

“Call it then, darling,” Clarke taunted from across the table as she sipped from her wine glass.

A chorus of taunts and advice rose up from the table while Lexa searched and scrutinized her wife’s face.

“I don’t want to. You’re telling the truth.”

“How do you know?”

“Twenty-five years and you think I don’t know?” Lea grinned and waited for the next person to go.

2:02AM

There were still noises upstairs as the kids settled and whispered. The lights still were on for the tree. The candles burned down as the TV played an old movie. Lexa kissed her wife’s chin as nails ran along her back, under her Christmas sweater.

“This is still my favorite tradition,” Lexa whispered.

“Mine too,” Clarke promised, kissing the crown of her head.

Their first Christmas together had been in a very shitty apartment that both were in denial about. They couldn’t afford much, and their tree was a secondhand buy from a thrift store. But the night before Christmas, they slept in the living room on a pallet made of cushions and blankets and they didn’t move at all after eating bad Chinese food that made them sick. They ended up watching Die Hard and all of its sequels all night, and opening the scant presents in the morning after coffee.

And every year since, they did the same. The only thing that really changed was the house and the presents.

“What’d you get me?”

“I’m not telling,” Clarke sighed, answering the same question for the seventh time.

“One day that’s going to work on you.”

“Good luck.”

7:03AM

“It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas! Wake up, Mommy!”

“MMMmmmm,” Lexa groaned into her pillow. “What’s the rule?”

“Already ready,” someone cheered, presenting her with a cup of coffee, the smell helping to wake her slightly.

“And the dog has been fed and watered and walked.”

“And no one touched anything. But Santa ate all the cookies and Rudolph got his treats too!”

“Okay, okay,” Clarke moaned, hiding deeper into her blankets. “Go sit and pick your first present to open.”

“But don’t open anything!” Lexa called, the feeling of her wife inching closer as the herd of children retreated down the steps. “Make sure everyone’s awake!”

“We got to sleep in an extra hour this year.”

“It’s a Christmas miracle.”

Quietly, hands slid under Lexa’s shirt and wrapped around her tightly. Clarke kissed her shoulder and held her there for a moment because that was all she wanted to do.

8:24AM

“Okay, time to call and thank everyone,” Clarke reminded her kids.

The living room became a sea of wrapping papers and discarded boxes, of presents piled high into mountains, and valleys filled with legs and bodies all trying to get into the living room in some way.

Lexa snapped a picture again and smiled to herself while her wife sipped her coffee and enjoyed her kids’ happiness. Not many things beat it.

“We have one more present for you,” Jack interrupted.

His moms were already wearing his school’s sweatshirts, which went well with Charlie’s t-shirts. The twins made flower pots with handprints, while the girls had a rare collection of handmade art projects. They would exchange their own gifts later.

“I think it’s safe to say, we’re done with Christmas,” Lexa decided as she looked at the empty tree.

“No, we have one more for you,” Charlie promised.

“You guys got us more than enough.”

“Just wait!” Harper cheered.

Molly crawled into Clarke’s lap as Henry dug for the envelope. He ordered them to sit before handing it over.

“You didn’t have to get us anything,” Clarke chided, kissing her youngest’s cheek.

“We know, we just.. Just open it,” Sawyer shrugger.

Clarke shared a look with her wife before smiling and opening it up. She read and reread a lot of the words and furrowed as she tried to figure out what was happening.

“You both deserve a break. From us.”

“What… how?”

“Grandma is coming that weekend,” Charlie informed them. “I’ll be home from school on Spring Break for the first part, and then Jack will be here for the rest.”

“What?” Lexa grabbed the papers and read them.

“We will pack you food and stuff. I’m in charge of that,” Sawyer explained.

“And I’m in charge of preparing the schedule for the week,” Henry offered.

“You’re both already off of work,” Harper interrupted. “That was my job. Your bosses are super easy to persuade. I made them cookies and they caved so easy.”

“How long have you guys been planning this?” Clarke chuckled.

“This cabin looks expensive,” Lexa worried.

“We worked all summer to pay for it. Between all of us, it was pretty easy.”

“Guys, seriously,” Clarke teared slightly. “You didn’t have to.”

“I can’t believe it. A whole four days. Spa. Jacuzzi. Bring it in.”

The dogpile ensued, the entire family hopping atop their parents and hugging and laughing. But it was glorious anyway.


	21. Day 21- Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Christmas prompts. Canon. Clarke teaching Lexa about Christmas

The cold crept up until it just appeared one morning, full and mighty and crisp. The leaves became floating embers and the ground was perpetually damp, while the sun was never quite there. It just existed there and didn’t do its job.

“No one is working,” Clarke observed as they walked through the city streets.

The snow fell and the dusting started to cover everything. The fires still burned though, and the people still hung out, preparing for something.

“We don’t work today. It’s a ceremonial day,” Lexa explained as they moved toward the tower. “The start of our High Holidays.”

“Holidays?”

“Yes. We still have old traditions. I think they’ve changed since the day of the first Commander though. Different clans have different specifics.”

“Like Christmas?”

“Is that your celebration?”

“Yes… it was. We haven’t in…” she thought about it for a second. “I don’t think I’ve celebrated anything in a long time.”

The guards held the door as they made their way inside the tower, both thinking and debating and shivering slightly from the weather and imposition of winter.

“You’re on the ground now,” Lexa reminded her. “You can celebrate with us.”

The elevator lurched as it began to climb toward the top of the tower and the meeting that awaited them to discuss the problems of their world. The snow continued to fall and the world continued to freeze, and Clarke felt oddly at home with the idea of starting over and being someone else-- someone who had something to celebrate.

* * *

It was particularly like how Clarke anticipated spending her day, but still, after the discovery of the rituals, she promised herself that she would try, no matter what it meant. She hadn’t expected it to be so serious and so difficult.

The fasting was easy. She went days without eating before, and now it was just for a reason other than a slow learning curve toward survival. But Clarke respected the fasting.

She didn’t anticipated the remembering.

“I thought the dead were gone,” she sighed, somewhat petulant with her own inability to deal with grief.

“Today we remember.”

Not even distracted at all by Clarke’s objection, Lexa continued, setting out the items she kept in a tiny canister under her bed. She moved with purpose, with no time to think of much else. The holidays were some of her favorite times of the year. As much as people would say she overturned tradition, she was as staunch as could be in some aspects of her people.

“So we fasted, we didn’t bathe, we met with friends and remembered the stories from the Before,” Clarke recited. “Now we remember the dead?”

“Yes.”

“What does that mean?”

“Different people believe in different things. I believe in blood,” Lexa nodded as she surveyed the items on the table.

Across the city, across their world, people did the same. Braids were laid out and stroked, sniffed, rubbed against the tips of noses and cheeks. Lexa swallowed. She had never had anyone to share her night with before.

“What does that mean?”

“I believe that our history is in our blood, since the beginning of time. Once, the blood of my family might have walked past the blood of your family in the street. And all of history, everything, all that has existed and transpired, has occurred and here we sit. I believe in my blood.”

“You honor your family,” Clarke nodded as she looked at the items.

“Some choose to speak with the dead. Some believe in the sky. Some believe in tomorrow. But today, we all remember and put ghosts to rest, ask for help for the next year.”

“What do you do?”

Gone was the paint of the warrior. Gone was the armor of the leader. Gone was the clothing of the girl who killed with the flick of her wrist. In her place, clad in simple clothes, with her hair still braided, though loser, Lexa smiled slightly at Clarke.

“I just remember them, so they do not have to die again.”

“Will you tell me?”

“You want to know?”

“Isn’t that how it works?”

A flicker of a smile happened. It kicked up at the corner of Lexa’s lips, just as it had when Clarke asked questions and took part in the other parts of the holidays. When she agreed to fast, when she agreed to sing and watch the plays, when she helped pick apples, when she helped clean. It was magical.

“My mother. Died of a sickness,” Lexa explained, picking up a braid. “She was quiet. But her voice. Sometimes,” she closed her eyes, “I can almost hear it. It was sweet. I always think about the time that she caught me playing with my father’s knives in the back. And she showed me how. I didn’t know she was capable of anything like that, but she threw it and hit a fly right out of the air. She was amazing.”

“That certainly explains a lot.”

Lexa shared a look with her friend that she often kissed and shook her head, shyly admitting she liked the sound of being like that woman.

“My father was a farmer. He always felt like dirt. His hands were always covered in it. He was a good man. I want to be good like that. Sometimes I forget to be good. He never had to even think about it.”

Clarke watched Lexa smell the dirt in a tiny vial. She poured some in her hand and rubbed it between her fingers before letting Clarke smell it.

“Anya,” Clarke whispered, looking at a familiarly auburn braid.

“She would have hated you,” Lexa chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “Hate is a strong word. She would have wanted to punch you. She might have.”

“She did.”

“She took care of me. Anya was stronger than I’ll ever be. But when I think of her, I only think of the time I saw her thrown from a horse and into a puddle. The look on her face.”

The sun began to set outside, and soon they would eat, but Clarke imagined what others might be doing, to sit around with their families and remember, and how powerful that must be, that it could rise up from the homes and somehow fill up all the empty spaces the remained.

“Do you have any?”

“Hm?”

“That you want to remember?” Lexa specified.

She toyed with her watch, twirling it around her wrist.

“Not this year. I’ll stick with the future. Tell me more.”

“Would you believe that my father was funny?”

“I would.”

* * *

The culmination of the winter festivities was a feast. There was the fasting, the working, the talking, the dancing, the harvesting, the preparing, and all things were done with a calm peace that preoccupied everyone’s thoughts.

Clarke liked the Night of Remembrance. She liked the day of dancing. She loved the smell of warm food that filled the night. Mostly, she liked Lexa teaching her everything, and becoming almost childlike in her enjoyment to share these parts of herself.

“This is good,” Clarke grinned, her cheeks warm with the alcohol, her belly full of the specialties created just for that night.

“It’s spiced and warmed,” Lexa laughed at her nearly drunk friend.

The songs played loud, the ceremonies ended and everyone was full of joy. Clarke danced to them, she laughed, she ate, she lived.

In the back hall, Clarke pushed herself against the leader and kissed her as hard as she could, her head swirling and spinning around with the feeling of lips. She inhaled a deep breath and she kissed Lexa with the smell of lingering spice on her lips and vowed to celebrate the season constantly.


	22. Day 22- Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can we get a Heart Christmas excerpt?

Throughout the hospital, little ornaments and spots of festive spirit cropped up. The walls got garland, the nurses’ stations got little trees and pictures of cartoon angels and presents. The entire ward went from stark white and beige to green and red and silver and gold. The mention of the world ‘miracles’ moved up exponentially, while the televisions kept preaching and showing well-worn cartoons with stories of the graciousness of the winter months.

Lexa personally hated the holidays for what they did to the entire hospital. The mathematics of it just rubbed her the wrong way. It didn’t make sense why a certain time of year would have any impact on her getting an organ, or someone else living or surviving. It definitely didn’t make sense that people believed in children’s stories in the matter of science.

But still, she smiled and thanked those who brought in little decorations. She let them hang up a stocking with her name on it. She took whatever they offered, though with no great showing of enthusiasm, just kindness.

“And how are you doing on this lovely afternoon?” Lexa smiled and put her bookmark back in its spot as her door opened to reveal her favorite doctor.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“I see your stats. They’re terrible,” Clarke picked up the chart and flipped through it. “You’re being unruly to nurses and refusing to call your sister.”

“I don’t think the last one is a medical problem.”

She earned a look, an exasperated and annoyed look that came with an unamused sigh. Lexa liked when she got that reaction from Clarke. She did that thing where she crinkled her eyebrows together and yet secretly smiled.

“Come on, let me take a listen.”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

There was a rhythm to the visits. A calm, steadiness so that Lexa knew what to expect, though she was more accustomed to a much more happy doctor giving her an exam in the name of keeping face.

“Are those from your mom?” Clarke asked as she warmed the stethoscope and listened to the bray of that heart.

“Yeah,” Lexa inhaled and exhaled as she already knew how to do. “One per day for the next week. Usually I just open them all at once though.”

The scope came off quickly as the doctor huffed and tucked it against her neck.

“You’re Jewish?”

“My dad was. My mom is painfully WASP-y. She loves Christmas though. But she’s adopted Hanukkah as her own.”

“How did I never know this?”

“I think it’s bad form to ask people their religions straight away. Something they have to divulge, I think,” Lexa reasoned. “See, watch. What religion are you? Just feels weird.”

“Do you light candles?”

“Seeing as how I live in an oxygen-infused tinder box, I don’t think it’d be a good idea.”

“I meant before you were here,” Clarke rolled her eyes.

“My dad liked to do it. I haven’t in a long time.”

“Do you want to know what I did every year for Christmas?”

“Please share with the class, Doctor Griffin,” the patient smiled and settled back against her pillows.

“Waited for my mom to get home so we could open presents. And then she was right back to work.”

“So you’ll be working then?”

“Looks like you’ll be stuck with me for the holidays,” the doctor nodded, closing the chart. “Be nice to the nurses. Please?”

“Bring me some pudding and we can watch Christmas movies tonight.”

“Behave yourself,” she insisted again as her pager went off.

Lexa smiled to herself as she saw a sliver of Clarke’s stomach when the scrub top was resituated to check the call. She blushed when she met the doctor’s eyes once more and smiled nervously.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

* * *

“Dr. Griffin made you get me out, didn’t she?” Lexa asked as an intern pushed her down the hall, back to her room.

“No, no… no,” they lied.

“No one really says no to her, huh?”

“No.”

Lexa smiled slightly as she thought about the stupid doctor that took care of her, that gave her a ridiculous crush, that very much messed up her okayness with dying. Clarke was a growing problem that Lexa wasn’t ready to fix, though she imagined she would have to shortly. No sense getting attached.

“Thanks for the lift,” Lexa grunted as she pushed herself up in a display of strength she didn’t really have.

Finally, she was attached back to her wires, attached back to her permanent jail cell. In just a few hours though, barring any complications, her doctor would stop by for dinner. That was always something to look forward to.

The intern disappeared as Lexa settled, poured herself some water, and picked up her book. If it hadn’t been for the stiffness in her back, she wouldn’t have noticed the new little lights that sat by the window.

With a small smile, she stared at the menorah before shaking her head.

* * *

“I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to light them,” Clarke shrugged as Lexa rolled her eyes and screwed in the bulbs to signify the fourth day.

“It’s a light bulb, not the Ark of the Covenant.”

“Still.”

The night settled outside and the people died down to almost nothing. There was a cold rain coming, not nearly sow, but not quite raindrops. The world was slush and soggy outside, and Clarke sat on her chair beside the bed and watched Lexa, not interested in going anywhere else, really.

In the dim light of the hospital room, she adjusted and scanned some of the books that remained beside the bed, always in a huge supply.

“I haven’t done this in a long, long time,” she sighed. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well. I thought it might spice up your room a bit.”

“And because you like me.”

“Shut up.”

“Just admit it.”

“No.”

“You will.”

Perturbed, Clarke shook her head and leaned back as Lexa stretched to turn off the light, leaving them in the tiny light of the menorah.

* * *

“You can’t keep paging me when you’re bored,” Clarke complained as she made her way into the patient’s room.

It was familiar and filled with little touches she put on it herself, and she chose not to worry about that too much. If she did, she’d realize how in it she really was, and that was a realization she didn’t have the time or energy to handle.

“But it’s the Christmas party in the nurses’ lounge and I really wanted–”

“Cookies? Yeah, I know,” she chuckled, tugging some stolen sweets from her pocket. “I shouldn’t enable you as much as I do.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Gone were the scrubs, gone was the white coat and ponytail. In its place was a casual doctor, one that did things to Lexa’s weak heart.

“I got you something else,” Clarke mumbled, digging in her purse as Lexa already started unwrapping the napkin full of cookies.

“You told me I wasn’t allowed to get you anything.”

“Yeah, well.”

“I can open it now or do I have to wait until tomorrow morning, Santa?”

“Now’s fine,” she smiled. “You can give me your gift tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t allowed to get you anything,” Lexa reminded her.

“Yeah, but you barely take my medical advice. I knew you weren’t going to listen to real advice.”

“True.”

Carefully, Lexa opened the gift, smiling wide when she read the title of the book. She traced it under her fingertips and looked back at the doctor with a glance of awe and joy.

“You said it was your favorite,” Clarke shrugged.

“It is.”

“Merry Christmas, Lexa.”


	23. Day 23- From Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How about a Christmas small chapter from the From Eden world? Would love to see how would they spend a Christmas together <3

“That’s a wrap. We’ll be back in forty-eight hours!” The director yelled through cupped hands at the entire cast and crew.

Tired from long, long, long shift of shooting, Lexa felt her body relax at the words, the harness slackening against her hips as she tugged off some gloves and a helmet. Sweat lingered on her shoulders, chest and back, but she was finally free.

For two days, she wasn’t going to do anything except be quiet. That was the plan. Two glorious, work-free days and nights, of which she would sleep, watch television, and do absolutely nothing at all. Except workout. She did have to workout. But that was it, she recited to herself as she continued along with her unhooking.

Their cabin was a little farther than normal from set, but Lexa did it on purpose. While filming out in the middle of nowhere, an entire little town popped up for a few weeks, and that was fine, except Lexa missed being alone. She was looking forward to that part the most. And the girlfriend part. Lexa missed Clarke.

So excited was Lexa, that she didn’t even notice the noise coming from her cabin, nor did she think to notice the lights that were on.

“Hi!” Clarke greeted her girlfriend with arms wrapped around her neck.

The cold of the tundra outside disappeared with warm skin and breath against her body. Clarke didn’t care that her girlfriend was frozen, she hugged her anyway.

“Hi. What happened… here?”

The cabin was just a normal cabin that morning, in the very, very wee hours that Lexa left a sleeping girl in her bed.

“I found some decorations. I made some extras, and some food,” Clarke explained. “You’re stinky.”

“That’s the smell of being on the wire.”

“Oh, you hate being on the wire,” the artist smiled.

“Happy Christmas!” the group cheered, beating Lexa home and already opening bottles and cans and the music flowing.

“Clarke, what is this?”

“Are you mad? I just… I saw everyone and I felt bad. I have thing for strays and everyone on this set is just a stray.”

“So we have a party?”

“A Christmas party.”

“I was looking forward to just us,” Lexa whispered, putting on her fake smile at the group that appeared and filled up her house.

“They’re strays,” Clarke shrugged.

It wasn’t the worst, and Lexa knew it wouldn’t be because Clarke was there. There was always this kind of gratefulness that Lexa had for a girl like Clarke. A girl that was more than happy to travel all over the place, including the Yukon. A girl that liked to run lines and spent too much time sketching and filling up books.

There were PAs, actors, prop supervisors, camera operators, and all parts of production in the cabin that was definitely bigger and more remote than the rest. Quickly, Lexa adapted to her role as co-host. Because Clarke picked up strays and Lexa loved it, as much as she wanted her quiet.

“I’m sorry I messed up your quiet night,” Clarke whispered, slipping into her girlfriend’s lap.

Both were wearing giant sweaters. Both were cozy. Both were sipping drinks and smiling and Lexa wanted to tell Clarke she was pretty, but she couldn’t find the right words. Instead she just shook her head and blushed.

“This is better,” Lexa promised, wrapping her arms around her hip and leaning against Clarke’s shoulder.

The chorus to a familiar and festive song rang up with someone leading the group along with a guitar that Lexa was not sure how it ended up in her home. But there it was, with her co-star strumming along and the rest of them joining in.

“I didn’t think you’d mind. We didn’t really make any Christmas plans.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You do, a little,” Clarke reminded her before sipping on her drink.

“I kind of just wanted to hang out with you.”

“For the rest of the break, I’m all yours. But for now, you look very cute and cozy.”

“Thank you.”

The rest of evening was actually fun. Board games were discovered in a closet, and sore as she was, Lexa took on the challenge from one of her friends. The entire day was festive. The house had miraculously been transformed into a wonderland. There were lights and garland and a tree. Somehow, Clarke even made cookies and snacks, all thrown together as people arrived and the party formed.

“I can’t believe she threw this together in just a few hours,” Gus chuckled as he leaned against a wall near his co-star.

“She’s always up to something,” Lexa nodded as she sipped her beer that was holiday themed and not that good. “I just wanted quiet. A fireplace crackling and bad movies.”

“She saw a bunch of roving, homeless people and gave them a Christmas party and family. Pretty nice.”

“I know. I love her.”

“Good. Because if you don’t marry her, I will.”

“I put in the hours,” Lexa chuckled. “Sat for a whole shift.”

“I’d sit on a bed of nails for a girl to love me like she loves you.”

“You’re mushy on the holiday.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled and nodded as they both watched the artist toss her head back and laugh, loud and huge, filling up the space with the rest of the people joining her as well.

* * *

“You’re drunk,” Lexa giggled, slightly numb and pretty inebriated herself. She didn’t fight back too hard though, not when there was a mouth on her neck and a hand slipping under her sweater.

The party died down, leaving nothing but a messy remnant behind, with cups and bowls and plates and an absolute wrecked downstairs. But everything was clean and nice upstairs. Everything was peaceful upstairs.

“You’re gorgeous,” Clarke responded, quite serious about it.

“You put together a Christmas party for my friends.”

“You were very good at charades.”

The wall in the bedroom echoed with the feeling of bodies pushing against it. The bedroom was dark, the wooden walls shimmering with the fire that burned in the little wood stove on the opposite side from the windows. For hours, all Lexa wanted to do was take Clarke upstairs. And now she was and she was eager and drunk. Both were eager and drunk.

“You can be my present for Christmas,” Lexa moaned. She slid her hands under her girlfriend’s hips, pushed her toward the bed. “I want to spend all day unwrapping you.”

“I don’t think that’s how unwrapping works.”

“You used to think I was clever with these lines.”

Clarke lifted her hips so that her pants could be pulled down and earned a smug grin. She spread her legs and scooted as Lexa settled between them, right at home in her familiar place. Outside, a snow was falling again and the little village would disappear once more. Downstairs, drunk guests slept it off amidst piles of leftover snacks and what blankets could be pulled from anywhere else.

“You’re my favorite person, did you know that?” Clarke smiled up as her sweater was tugged over her head.

“Just wait. I’m sure you can like me more,” Lexa decided, before going about the task of convincing.

* * *

“We have to go downstairs,” Clarke murmured, wiggling deeper into Lexa’s arms, despite her assertion.

“No.”

“The coffee is downstairs.”

“No.”

“We can’t hide up here all day.”

“No.”

“I’m hungry,” she chuckled, stretching the whole way down to her toes. By far, she’d never had a better Christmas, and not a single gift was given. She didn’t need anything other than the bed and the blankets and the orgasms. She was a fan of the orgasms a lot. “Don’t you dare make an ‘I-have-something-you-can-eat’ joke.”

Lexa snapped her mouth shut before any words could come out. She didn’t care. She was in a sex coma and she was happily napping her day away between bouts of either chatting or making out or new and fun positions she’d never had the imagination to invent, but apparently her girlfriend did.

“No, don’t go,” she whined as the warmth of another body finally receded. “It’s dirty and far away, down there.”

“You’re a baby. I’m just going to get the presents and some food. Then we’ll stay in bed.”

“Fine.”

“Put some clothes on.”

“I draw the line.”

“Shut up,” Clarke ordered before kissing Lexa’s temple.

* * *

“Our first Christmas together is shaping up nicely,” Lexa observed as she sat up and stretched slightly before stealing another sandwich from the random assortment of foodstuffs that her girlfriend put together.

The bed was covered in snacks and gifts to be unwrapped. The sun already began to set and they hadn’t done anything at all, and it was glorious. Lexa slipped on an old shirt, and Clarke elected for discarded sweats and some sweater. Both had messy hair and various bruises beginning to form, both those made from mouths and from hitting hard objects.

Lexa was okay with this tradition. The snacks and the gifts and the sex all day. She liked the napping too, though that felt like a given.

“How about next year we try to be home.”

“Your place or mine?”

“Wherever you get the tree delivered,” Clarke chuckled, leaning forward for a kiss. “Now open your gifts.”

“So bossy.”

“Yeah. Get used to it, Woods.”

“I think I have to,” she smiled.


	24. Day 24- Shovel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you’re my new neighbor and we’ve never spoken but you saw me shoveling snow all day and i guess it must be pretty obvious how cold i am because you brought me a jacket and hot cocoa au

When she woke, she knew that the day was going to be different. The weather station said to expect the worst-- the worst storm that anyone had seen in the past twenty-five years, which was a lot for Clarke to even comprehend. So instead, she just stayed in bed. It was warm there. In here bed, there weren’t papers to be read, or chores to be done, or even thoughts to be had. In her bed, there was only pillows and comforters and books and tea and wooly socks and warmth while the day outside was covered and buried in snow and coldness.

“Come on, Clarke, get up!” her roommate yelled through the door. “We’re going to get coffee and go sledding.”

“It’s freezing out there,” Clarke yelled from under her blanket bunker.

“You have to see it. There’s like three feet of snow out there.”

“Only if we can get coffee.”

It wasn’t that she hated the cold, Clarke realized, as she shoved off her blankets and met the day. It was that she just really liked being warm and lazy. Something about not doing anything was the best kind of reward for the past semester. But there was no avoiding Raven and Wells when they set their mind to something, and she knew it, too.

That was how Clarke found herself tugging on her boots and hat and preparing to venture out into the wonderland that stalled all traffic and kept the plows busy. The world outside their shared home was completely white. Cars were humps in the snow, and the neighborhood was quiet. Too quiet. Eerily quiet and still.

It wasn’t too much of a surprise. Their house was the youngest on the block. Everyone else was retirees and elderly couples who liked to bake cookies and snag someone for a long chat when they went to get the mail. But Clarke liked the demographic. It made her feel like drinking tea and sitting on her porch was acceptable behavior.

“Damn, who is that stupid to try to shovel in this weather?” Wells whistled as the trio stepped out onto the porch, bundled up and ready to embark.

One lone figure a few houses down loomed, tossing snow over their shoulder to clear out the driveway of a recently sold home.

“New neighbors. Bill said they were sisters from… God, where did he say… Georgia or California or something.”

“Those are very different places,” Clarke shook her head and watched the body work, never stopping the monotonous work of clearing the walk.

“Both are hot, and both don’t get snow like this,” Raven refuted. “Walter said that they are sisters. One got a job up here or something. Our age. He said the neighborhood is going to hell with all these millennials moving in.”

“I wish you would stop gossiping with the elderly neighbors.”

“They invited me to book club. And they keep setting me up with their eligible grandsons. It’s honestly the best place. You should come,” she teased Wells. “They have granddaughters.” 

“Oh! The ones who had that cute little girl at Halloween. The only trick-or-treater on the block,” Clarke remembered.

“Yeah, the hot siblings and the adorable toddler,” Raven nodded.

They made their way down the street toward their café of choice. Clarke watched the neighbor from across the street as they passed and felt a pang of pity for her.

“Look at her, she doesn’t even have the right coat on,” Clarke shook her head.

“She’ll be inside in ten minutes, ordering a truck to haul them back to the warmth.”

They shook their heads and smiled at the notion of it before meandering toward their day.

* * *

The cold crept into her lungs like a blade, sliced right into her body, mingling with the heat generated from the mechanical shoveling. But still, she did not stop. Sweat slid down her back and shoulders, and she kept moving. If she kept moving, she would grow to like this place. If she kept moving, she didn’t have to go inside and complain and make her sister more angry with the constant complaining. That was the plan, and it was a terrible one.

Lexa didn’t have to move with her sister, but she also didn’t have it in her to let her go off on her own with Libby, just all alone with no support, just for trying to get a better life for her daughter. And Lexa found a job, and she didn’t mind it much.

Until she woke up with a million pounds of snow covering the neighborhood.

Until she woke up and her sister snapped at her for being a jerk, which she had been, so that was fair, but still.

Until she woke up and exiled herself to the tundra.

The neighbors were all polite and kind. They accepted Libby graciously, offering to babysit whenever. Lexa actually liked the cookies and brownies they brought over as housewarming presents.

So she kept shoveling, because stopping wasn’t an option. If she stopped then she would have to think, and if she had to think, she would have to make decisions, and if she had to make decisions, she would know that she was moving on and moving forward, and all she wanted to do was remain firmly rooted in the past, at least for this season.

* * *

The neighborhood got cleaned up, slightly. Clarke paused in her window, thawing from their adventure out while her roommates argued over food. She watched the neighbor work on the fifth driveway and walk of the day and she sipped her tea and shook her head.

“Get me the usual,” Clarke decided as she dug in the closet and filled her arms with a few things before gearing back up again to go outside of the warmth of their home.

“We haven’t decided where we’re ordering from!”

“You know what I like.”

Hours passed, and still, the worker kept going. Clarke couldn’t remember such a burst of neighborly duty than cleaning up the walks of the elderly neighbors. It was a sight to see, and now she felt oddly useless and indebted for them.

Even though the coffee mug she prepare was hot in her hands, even with her own scarf, she felt the chill of the evening as it began to settle on their little slice of the world.

She didn’t know much about her neighbor. She really didn’t know much about the others, despite the two years they’d lived in their house. It was Raven that got chummy with them, and it was Wells that mowed lawns and was deemed a nice boy. Clarke just waved and kept busy enough to avoid getting to know anyone.

But she remembered her new neighbor, the more she racked her brain. She remembered seeing them outside playing. She remembered them moving in. She remembered the one who would run and wear just a sports bra a few months ago. She had muscles and looked hot. Then she helped usher a toddler along during Halloween, with a gentle grin and a sheepish thankfulness. Now this.

“You’ve been at this for hours,” Clarke finally decided to mention as the girl kept shoveling, despite her approach.

“I’m sorry?”

“You must be frozen solid.”

“Um, yeah. Kind of. Sweaty and cold,” she nodded politely.

“I brought you some cocoa.”

“Is this your place?” she furrowed and leaned her arm on the shovel.

“No, I’m across and a few down,” Clarke nodded, pointing back over her shoulder. “But you’re doing something really nice, so I figured I could repay the favor.”

The stranger nodded and smiled slightly before taking a sip of the drink. A little chocolate mustache appeared before she licked at it, savoring the warmth of her entire body.

“I’m Clarke. I live with Raven and Wells,” she offered. “I saw you earlier. You’ve been busy.”

“Lexa,” she nodded, handing back the now empty cup. “Thank you.”

“I also brought you a proper coat. That one is too thin, even if you’re sweating.”

“I’m almost done.”

“Still.”

Clarke watched her debate before agreeing with her stern glare. She smiled at the victory of warming up the stranger.

“You can bring it back to me tomorrow. We’re having a Christmas party. Your family is invited.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to move tomorrow, honestly,” Lexa confessed.

“If you can,” Clarke offered with a slight blush. “Get to know some of the neighbors your own age.”

“Thank you, for this,” she smiled.

“Yeah, of course. Thank you.”

For some reason, Clarke felt obscenely nervous. It was worse that she looked back and saw a girl watching her go home. She grinned again and traipsed her way back up the steps, afraid to look again.


	25. Day 25- 12 Days of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> secret santa who keeps getting me random shit like why would i want this blender au

**12 Bells A-ringin'**

“The snow though.”

“Cold, frozen water that mucks up the roads.”

“The lights and the decorations.”

“Fall risks and black ice.”

“The gifts and the joy.”

“Consumerism run amuck.”

“Wow,” Clarke chuckled and shook her head. “You really are a grinch.”

“I’m practical,” Lexa corrected as she sipped her beer, which by far, in her own opinion, was the best part of the holiday season-- new beer flavors.

The bar was decked out in weird decorations from every holiday, not bothering to take down witches and zombies and pumpkins and turkeys and pilgrim hats, but instead adding to them, putting up pine trees and icicle lights and reindeer noses. It was a mess, and it was her favorite bar in the city.

“So you’re not doing the secret santa thing?” the secretary cocked her head and leaned back in her chair.

She didn’t want to, but Lexa smiled at her co-worker. It was only a secret to Clarke, it seemed, that Lexa had a thing for her. Their company was small, less than twenty employees, but it was their own and it was unfortunately intimate.

Started out of her garage, the furniture studio was Lexa’s hard work personified. She didn’t have knack for numbers though, and thus her sister got involved and ran the books. And then they had to have someone to order supplies and answer the phones when they kept ringing to schedule appointments, and so Clarke came around. And then they needed someone to help with the building while Lexa focused on the sculpting and art and bigger projects, so they took on an intern. And then they needed another intern. And then they needed someone to sell the stuff when they bought a new loft, so Wells came to run the storefront. And so on, and so forth, until they had quite a little setup that specialized in custom furniture and decoration.

But from the very beginning, when they popped champagne in the empty new loft space, from her first day, Lexa had a crush on the student who spent her mornings and afternoons in the back office, making sure everything was stocked and Lexa went to meetings with clients. How could she not?

Clarke was happy and funny and smart, and she liked to watch Lexa work, and she liked Lexa’s work and called it art. And Clarke was happy and talkative, extroverted, much the opposite of her boss.

“It wouldn’t be fair, someone to get stuck with the boss,” Lexa shrugged. “Plus, I’m sure I’d be a terrible gift-giver.”

“I love this season,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “I got Anya. Now that’s someone who is hard to shop for.”

“What did you get her?”

“I don’t know… what do you recommend?”

“I’m not helping you cheat,” Lexa chuckled. “What would you get me?”

“More flannel to complete your collection.”

“I’m a woodworker, that’s our uniform.”

“I’d get you something good. But I can’t tell you, in case I want to give it to you. Over here!” she yelled over the crowd, waving over the rest of their group.

Lexa scooted over, shoving herself into a corner. She didn’t want to hang out with everyone else. She wanted to have another beer with Clarke. But as soon as people came and hugged and ordered, Clarke climbed into the booth beside her and she didn’t care that much about Wells and Raven and Anya and Bellamy. She didn’t mind at all, despite the fact that her heart was pounding in her ears.

The crowd gathered and a game played somewhere in the background. The night, an innocuous Thursday just happened, the snow outside, the cars trudging past, the warmth that was interrupted as the door opened and let in a gust of chill, it all was Christmas-tinted.

And the night happened. THe night just happened and no one did anything else other than enjoy each other for a few hours between new rounds. But the night got long and late and turned to midnight.

“Clarke?” the waitress called as she dropped off checks.

“That’s me,” she held up her hand while she dug for money in her pockets, searching her coat as best she could in the cramped space.

“I got you,” Lexa grunted, tossing down some cash. “Want me to walk you home?”

“Thanks, yeah. If you don’t mind.”

“This was left for you,” the waitresses handed over an envelope.

“By who?”

“I just deliver mail apparently,” she rolled her eyes and collected payments before disappearing into the crowds.

“Open it!” Raven cheered while Lexa tried to hide as she tugged on her coat. The group slipped out of the booth and they crowded around the envelope that was addressed simply to their coworker. “What is it? What does it say?”

Carefully, Clarke opened the elegant golden envelope with her name in perfect calligraphy on the outside. She pulled out the rich, red card and she smiled as she read the note on the front. On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… She opened it and found a map on the inside with a time.

“That’s soon,” Bellamy read over her shoulder, the entire gang hanging around. “We should go now to make it.”

“We?” Clarke shook her head. “It’s on my way home and fifteen minutes out of everyone else’s way.”

“You can’t go alone,” Anya disagreed. “What if it’s a murderer?”

“I’ll walk her,” Lexa piped up slowly, quiet and afraid of interrupting too much.

“Lexa is walking me,” Clarke agreed. “Whoever got me this, I’m excited.”

“Fat chance,” her friend challenged. “We’re coming.”

The few drinks helped. Lexa shoved her hands in her pockets as the gaggle moved down the street toward the center of the city, toward the park that had that two giant statues at either end. Their breath all mingled together so that they were a freight train on the tracks toward their destination with no way to stop.

Cold nipped at her ears, but she gave Clarke her hat, or rather, she let Clarke keep the beanie she stole at the bar instead of snatching it back. She didn’t mind, really.

“Okay, what time is it?” Clarke asked as they group found their way to the X on the map and stood there, in the middle of the field.

The trees were just shadows against the glow of the streetlights. Only a single car slowed and turned down a side street, while the occasional noise of tires or another group of people could be found among the general hum of the city itself.

“Two minutes to spare,” Bellamy answered as he dug out his phone.

“Well the song, right? On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… a partridge in a pear tree.”

“Two turtle doves.”

“Three french hens.”

“Four…” Wells began and gave up, earning a laugh. “What the hell is a partridge and I don’t see any pear trees.”

Before anyone could answer or offer any suggestions. The church bells began to chime. The snow fell in little flakes, little specks of stars amidst the blackness of the night. The noise began to take up with the other church on the other side of the street, and then another, and another, until they couldn’t hear more joining in, just that there was the most ringing of bells that the could ever remember hearing.

Face alight and smiling, Clarke tilted her head back and held her arms out, as if she could feel the sound, as if she had to stretch out in the sea of it and coast along on its current.

“I don’t see a partridge,” Wells shook his head, still confused.

“Maybe that was one,” Raven suggested. “I didn’t hear the song though.”

“Twelve bells a-ringing,” Anya nudged them with her elbows. “Clarke’s secret santa got her twelve bells a-ringing.”

“Wow,” Clarke sighed, overwhelmed by the noise and the feeling of it all.

“That bar is set pretty high,” Bellamy sighed. “Isn’t there a fifty dollar limit?”

“That was… thank you. Whoever got me that,” she applauded the group, smile so wide it looked painful and wonderfully perfect at the same time. “Anyone going to own up to it?”

“It’s not Christmas,” Anya told her. “You have to wait to find out.”

“Did you hear that?” she asked Lexa, hugging her arm in her excitement. “That was amazing.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I could compete with that,” the boss shrugged nervously.

“I wonder who it was.”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think it was Finn?”

“I don’t know.”

“Gah, this was amazing,” she chuckled.

“Pretty impressive.”

The friends all debated it, half drunk and frozen as hell. The city didn’t care, and the last ding of a bell hummed forever as the livewire within the city. All was quiet behind that. All was alive.

* * *

**11 Ladies Dancin**

“Tell me who it is,” Clarke pestered, following Lexa around the office as the crafter searched for her pencil and ruler before returning to her drafting table. “Come on, Lex. Give me a hint.”

“Why would I know or care?”

“Because you’re the only impartial one who isn’t participating. And Anya told me you were in charge of keeping the list.”

“I’m not telling you,” she smirked and ducked her head as she began her next attempt at the shelves requested by a client.

“Just tell me if I guess.”

“There’s only twenty six people in it. You’d guess it all in under two minutes.”

“Please?” Clarke pouted, knowing full well that it would work. She leaned over the desk and batted her eyes, waiting as Lexa tried not to look at her.

“I take my job as keeper of the list very seriously, Clarke,” Lexa shook her head. “It’s a Christmas tradition, and you love Christmas traditions.”

All that the blonde could do was growl slightly, knowing that she was defeated by that logic.

“I know you’re right, but I’m so annoyed.”

“Did you like it?”

“Hm?”

“The bells?” Lexa ventured a look as Clarke stood up a little straighter as the bell rang from downstairs, indicating someone was going to be coming up the steps shortly.

“How could I not? It was… magic. You were there. It was just great.”

“Delivery,” a mailman called, looking around for someone to hand off a manilla envelope.

“I mean, it was miraculous,” Clarke continued as she walked across the open floor of the workshop. “I don’t think I’ve ever hear so many bells. I loved it. I mean it. Thank you.”

“Is that my new caliper? I ordered it last week.”

“I wish I got as excited about something as you get about calipers,” her secretary grunted as she scanned the envelope. “It’s for me.”

“Did you order new calipers?” She earned an annoyed glance before Clarke shook her head and began to open it up. “I just want some new calipers. That’s what you can get me for Christmas. A notice of proper delivery date for my caliper set. How am I supposed to make good stuff without good tools?”

Ramble as she did, Lexa stopped when she saw Clarke start to smile. Across the room, the secretary froze before opening it hurriedly. A similar golden envelope was tossed across the desk.

“On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…” she read aloud.

“Is it eleven calipers?”

“Enough with the calipers,” she groaned. “These are… ballet tickets? It was sold out. Even my mom couldn’t get tickets.”

“I thought you went every year,” Lexa gave up on her sketch, because when Clarke was around, she was incapable of doing anything else than giving her full attention.

“We do. My dad liked it. But this year we missed the window… But these are actual tickets to the Nutcracker for tonight.”

“No offense, ballet is boring.”

“You can’t ruin this.”

“Eleven ladies dancing,” Lexa offered. “That’s pretty clever.”

“You have to tell me who it is.”

“Do you think you’re going to get a bunch more presents? One for every day?”

“I hope not. I don’t want two turtle doves.”

Lexa smiled to herself as Clarke grew more and more excited with the tickets in her hand. She grinned and looked back at Lexa with a pure kind of joy.

“You look happy.”

“This is the best Christmas ever.”

* * *

**10 Ships Sailing**

The snow came down in big fat flakes for spurts at a time. It would swirl around in the wind-blown city, and it would dance along the city and the sidewalks. The day was a full on flurry of nothing at all except cold and angry, and Clarke loved it. How could she not? With all the promise of ten more days of gifts from a secret gift-giver, and with the enjoyment of the night at the ballet she thought she’d miss, she was on cloud nine, and a little flurry wasn’t going to ruin that.

“You don’t have all of your gifts picked out yet?”

“I have them picked out,” Clarke rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee. “I just have to pick it all up.”

“Good. Did you pick out what I’m getting everyone?” Raven asked as they walked downtown toward the shops.

“Of course.”

The warmth of the stores met them. They shrugged off their coats and moved into the mall, hoping that it would thaw them from the whipping wind. The first day off in a long while, with the impending winter break from school meaning that everything was free time, and Clarke was taking all of it that she could.

The pair prowled around the mall, picking up this and that to wrap up their shopping for their friends and loved ones. They sipped their coffee and relaxed as best they could, away from the snow and the storm.

“So do you have any idea who your secret Santa is?” Raven asked as she held up a sweater to her chest and deciding that it was worth consideration.

“No, and it’s pissing me off,” Clarke complained. “Do you think Lexa would like this? It’s not flannel, but it’s cozy, right?”

She held up a sweater, a thick, wooly thing in dark blues and greens and white deer in perfect little lines. Without meaning to, she wanted to know what it would smell like when her boss wore it. That was a problem, she knew she had, but couldn’t avoid.

“Oh, so now you’re shopping for Lexa?”

“She’s my boss. I have to get her something.”

“What if she’s your secret Santa?” Raven scoffed, earning a long, long laugh. “It has to be Finn. Or Johnny. He’s keen on you.”

“I don’t like them, you know that,” she shook her head and decided on the sweater with a grin. “It’s kind of the best thing, isn’t it? The gifts, the song?”

“It’s ridiculous.”

“Someone took months to plan this out.”

“Yeah, which is ridiculous,” Raven shook her head. “They beat the price limit that's for sure. I bet it’s Lexa.”

“My boss?” Clarke rolled her eyes. “No way.”

“She has the hots for you.”

“My boss? No way.”

“Clarke, I promise,” Raven assured her. “She fawns over you, gives you whatever schedule you want, makes goo-goo eyes.”

“My boss? Lexa? Lexa Woods? My boss?” Clarke furrowed and shook her head, getting the thought out of her head. “She’s quiet and barely tolerates me.”

“She can’t talk around you and she only ever smiles when you’re in the room. It’s ridiculously adorable and gross.”

“She’s not my secret Santa. She barely celebrates. If Anya didn’t make her, she’d probably have the shop open.”

“I’m right.”

“You’re always right,” Clarke rolled her eyes as they got in line to buy their items.

After an entire day of shopping, Clarke almost forgot the promise of the song. She was too busy juggling bags and battling the elements and her best friend to care about a silly idea, and she was so deep in her repression of the inkling of Lexa as having a crush on her, that her mind was very busy and unable to think about much else.

By the time she got home, with the sun almost setting, with the snow settling in for a night of random accumulation, she was exhausted. But when the gold of a newly familiar style of envelope caught her eye as sticking out from beneath her door, she felt her heart skip.

The bags of presents flew to her couch as she tossed open the door and hurried to grab it.

“On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,” it read, earning a smile. “It’s not ten, but it’s your favorite ship.”

There was a box on the table that she flipped open to find a box of her favorite show on DVD. Clarke chuckled despite the terrible pun. Tired as she was, she put in the first disk when they first meet, and she tucked herself into the couch for a long evening of watching people falling in love all over.

The snow kept falling, and the day ticked into the next, but still, all she could do was enjoy it all over again.

* * *

**9 Drummers Drumming**

The gallery was turned into a Christmas party with a bit of elbow grease on the part of the secretary and the manager. For days they’d planned and prepped, stringing red and white lights, setting up games and ordering food and drinks. The furniture and mock rooms were left and added to with festive decorations.

From the very first year, even when it was just Anya and Lexa, there had been a Christmas party of some sort. When they hired their first employees, they gave out bonuses and bought drinks at a local bar next to the first small shop. This year though, it was the first year they had someone to properly want something else. And once Clarke got it in her head, she was set on it, organizing the Secret Santa and all festivities, with Anya joining her eagerly, much to her sister’s annoyance.

It was downright appalling to the part-time secretary that bonuses were unceremoniously passed out at a bar, without any santa hats or festive games or sweaters to be seen. And so she began planning it with no one’s permission, and Lexa’s credit card.

Skeptical that she had to go at all, Lexa let herself be dragged anyway. She didn’t even mind that she was given a really ridiculous sweater to wear, or that she was handed a beer, because the room did look great, and everyone that she loved was having fun.

“I’m not part of secret Santa,” Lexa shook her head as she sipped her beer in the corner.

There was dancing and jokes and laughter and people lounging in the pre-fabricated fake rooms that housed some of her creations and originals.

“But still, I saw it and thought of you,” Clarke smiled. “And to be fair, I didn’t but it, you did.”

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“Shut up.”

With a shake of her head, Lexa put her beer down and tore at the wrapping paper. She smiled as she held up the calipers she’d ordered.

“Just what I always wanted,” she chuckled. “Thank you.”

“I got you a real present, but you have to wait until Christmas.”

“You don’t have to get me anything.”

“I know, but we’re friends.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, you’re my boss,” Clarke shrugged. “But sometimes we’re friends. And I like you a lot as a person in my life.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” she rolled her eyes and nudged the woodworker with her arm, moving closer.

“You did a great job on this party,” Lexa cleared her throat with the proximity. “Any more presents from your Secret Santa?”

Clarke’s hand was on her forearm, and Lexa watched it happen and she moved closer despite herself, both tucked away from the party in a small corner beside a living room. Lexa gulped and set her jaw before meeting Clarke’s eyes.

“Tell me who they are?”

“I’m not spoiling it.”

“Give me a hint?”

“No.”

“Fine,” Clarke sighed. “I got a ship yesterday. My favorite ship.”

“What’s today then?” Lexa grinned. They were close and whispering quieter than the party should allow.

It was the best break, and it was a nice little time to be alone. Lexa savored it, weirdly enough. She never imagined Clarke. She wanted to. She thought she could win her, though she tried to beat herself out of it because it was inappropriate.

Clarke was young and fun and sweet and alive and kind and she made Lexa feel a little extroverted sometimes, which was very new. Lexa had a crush on her and fumbled and Anya thought she would cut off her fingers at some point by being distracted. Clarke really couldn’t concentrate, because Lexa looked cute in her beanie and with her forearms and tattoos and smile, that quite, amused smile that no one else really got. In summation, they were a gay disaster, and Lexa hated the cliché.

“I’m not sure. I don’t want to look up the song and ruin it.”

“Have you had a few drinks?” Lexa asked.

“Just a few. I’m in control.”

“I have no doubt. But you’re standing very close to me.”

“I am. With purpose.”

“And what purpose would that--”

“Clarke Griffin!” A voice raised up above the crowd, clearing the mass of employees hovering around.

With the noise, the pair separated, jumped at least six feet apart in a matter of seconds. The lights flickered and Lexa felt both alarmed and afraid at everything that had happened between them.

“Clarke! Get over here.”

With a small glimmer of a smile, Clarke tried to apologize to Lexa with a look before changing her face to echo that of the atmosphere of the party. Lexa leaned against the wall and she watched it all happen.

The stranger handed over a newly familiar envelope, the golden color evident even in the dim glow of the festive tint to the room.

“On the ninth day of Christmas,” she read aloud. “My true love gave to me.”

“One. Two. One two three four,” the stranger interrupted.

The drumming started as the men began to fall in from outside, all lining up. The crowd cheered and clapped as they stopped before starting once again. Lexa just stared at Clarke, watched her enjoy the gift from her Secret Santa. They played the song, beat out a noise and it was magnificent and loud and every bit a bunch of little drummer boys.

With a final swig of her drink, Lexa held up her calipers as Clarke beamed, and she disappeared from the party.

* * *

**8 Maids A-Milking**

There was a quietness that came in the jarring noise of the lathe. Lexa liked the feeling of it in her fingertips. She liked making things, and crafting with her hands. She loved getting lost in feeling something, and she loved the way that she could measure and perfect something. Overall, she loved hiding in her corner, taking bits of wood and metal, and making things she thought looked nice.

Half of the office was out with a run of hangovers, and she liked that feeling that came with pretending she was back in the single garage, before she could sell what she made for enough money to sustain a good life.

With her headphones in her ears, she ran the sander against the tabletop, trailing her fingers over after it. It was sweet and quiet and Lexa--

“What?”

A cup splashed down on her desk and someone tugged on the back of her shirt, making her jump as she finished moving along the tabletop.

“On the eighth day of Christmas,” Clarke read, sipping on her milkshake. “My true love gave to me, eight maids a-milkshaking.”

“I don’t think that’s how it goes,” Lexa cocked her head as she tucked her earbud into her shirt and squinted at the newest addition.

The office was still slow and peaceful, but now there was a secretary sitting on her workbench, sipping a large milkshake, her arm full of six more in a little tray.

“I love milkshakes,” she sighed after a long gulp. “And this is my favorite.”

“So I get one too?”

“I’m spreading the Christmas spirit.”

“This is a little quieter than the drummers,” Lexa nodded, poking the straw into the lid as she leaned against the workbench. “That was a nice party you put together.”

“I do my best work when it’s with someone else’s credit card.”

“I don’t doubt that,” she smiled and sipped. “Still no guesses as to who your true love is?”

“My Secret Santa? No,” Clarke shook her head and sighed as she surveyed the tabletop. “That looks amazing. You know that right?”

“I don’t know if I’m going to finish it.”

“You have to. It’s beautiful.”

“Okay, boss.”

Armed with the knowledge that she really could boss Lexa around, Clarke smirked and leaned back against the wall from her throne atop the bench, oddly distracted by the idea of a secret Santa, and yet really distracted with Lexa.

* * *

**7 Swans Swimming**

The milkshakes were shared around the office, the drummers were enjoyed by all, while Clarke spent the past few days binging her favorite ship at night. She was hardpressed to figure out which day she liked best, just that seeing a gold envelope appear was always a surprise, and a little bit of something that she didn’t want to get accustomed to having.

“Are you sure it’s not Finn?” Raven asked as they followed the directions on the newest map to appear with an envelope. “I saw you getting cozy with your boss at the party.”

“It’s not, and I wasn’t.”

“You were all over her.”

“I don’t like Lexa,” Clarke protested, following her phone to the coordinates, deep into the middle of the giant park in the city. “But we do need to figure out who is sending me all of these great things.”

“Ballet tickets. A drumming band thing. It’s impressive.”

The cold whipped around them as the paused on the bridge that was marked. The clouds were heavy and full, waiting to shed some skin and move on to the next city. The park was stark gray and white with dark patches of branches that were anemic and dangerously thin in the winter afternoon. The water of the lake was almost black, completing the monochromatic view.

“Raven, I think I like Lexa,” Clarke huffed, adding her own cloud to the world.

“Yeah no shit.”

“Excuse me, Clarke Griffin?” A stranger approached, waiting for a nod. “I have some cocoa for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, so you just accept things from strangers now?” Raven furrowed, watching the scene transpire as the vendor returned to his newsstand a few dozen feet away. “You’re not worried about what this is doing to you as a person?”

“It’s fine,” Clarke shrugged, sipping it, pointing to the cute little gold sleeves that matched her envelope.

“You’ve gotten exceedingly weirder in the past few days. But at least you’re admitting your crush on Lexa.”

“What about whoever is doing this for me? They are putting a lot of work into it,” she wagered as she cracked open the next envelope.

“They must like you. I just got my Secret Santa a candle.”

“On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…” Clarke ignored her friend and read the card. “Seven swans swimming.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Raven sighed, marvelled and such at the view when she registered the graceful swans out on the water.

“Your swan awaits.”

“What does that mean?”

“Tickets to those paddle boats,” Clarke laughed, holding them up for Raven to see and enjoy. “It’s freezing cold and they got me a paddle boat ride with some swans.”

“To be fair there’s not much they can do with this old ass song.”

“I think it’s brilliant. I love this boat thing. My dad used to bring me out here in the spring. I don’t think I’ve been in years.”

“Well, who would know this about you?” Raven squinted, sipping her own hot chocolate as Clarke thought about it.

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Creepy.”

“It’s not creepy,” Clarke chided. “It’s thoughtful. It’s sweet. It’s… It as to be Lexa, right?”

“I don’t know. She has a pretty airtight alibi for most of this stuff.”

“Maybe I just hope it’s her.”

“That sounds more like it,” Raven nodded. “We don’t have to go do the paddle boat thing, do we?”

“My true love gave me them, Raven. Of course we do.”

With a loud and long groan, Raven let her head drop to her arms on the railing of the bridge, cursing herself for thinking it was a good idea to accompany Clarke anywhere, ever again.

* * *

**6 Geese a-Layin'**

“Where are my--”

“Bottom left.”

“Oh yeah, okay,” Lexa nodded as she moved around the small office. “What about those--”

“Middle on the right, under the notebooks,” Clarke answered quickly. “I know it was just a pity invitation. I really am more than okay to spend the day with my family. I can survive my mother for more than-- give me that.”

Cramped in the back closet and attempting to change for a stupid local business gala, Clarke did her best to help her boss get ready, which was really no difficult task. If she had known that Lexa could wear a dress like that… Or if she had an inkling of an idea that her flanneled, sexy forearmed boss could look stunning and also nervous as she searched for earrings, she might have developed more of a crush. But Clarke found those things out on accident, and that was a punch in the heart.

She’d taken to blaming the holidays though. If she blamed the sentimental nature of the season, she could diminish it. But that dress made the defense weak and that did not please the court.

“Anya is cooking. I’m bringing wine,” Lexa clarified as she looked at herself in the beat up old mirror that she didn’t use often. “You already got me calipers, so just come. Bring pie or just yourself. It wasn’t an empty offer.”

“Still, I should spend it with my parents. I appreciate it though.”

“My sister says I have a knack of rescuing people. The offer is always open. You know that.”

“I know,” she nodded. “You look really great.”

“Yeah?” Lexa breathed, looking herself over, pressing her hand over her stomach, flattening out the dress. “I feel ridiculous. Can you believe they call me an upstanding member of the community?”

“I can, actually.”

“Whatever,” she scowled and gave up, walking back out toward the front to meet her sister as the secretary followed.

It was well past closing time, but still, Lexa was grateful Clarke stuck around to help her get ready, to at least expel some of her nerves. It lasted just a moment and then it was gone, back again.

“You didn’t ask about my secret Santa,” Clarke offered as they walked down the stairs toward the lobby.

“I assumed they massacred some fowl for you,” Lexa shrugged.

“Better. A paddle boat ride.”

“And today?”

“Haven’t gotten it--” Clarke stopped mid-sentence as they found a gold card atop a box on a table at the entrance to the shop. “Damn.”

“You like this kind of thing?” Lexa asked, making a face at the display.

“How could I not? It’s amazing.”

“I really am bad at Christmas.”

“You are,” Clarke smiled as she began to open the card. “On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me--”

“I just have a problem with the wording. They’re your true love now?”

“Jealous?” All she got was a grunt, which was more than enough to make Clarke enjoy it all even more. “Six geese a-layin’... golden eggs.”

The box came next, with six golden eggs that popped open to reveal some of Clarke’s favorite candies.

“The offer still stands. Dinner on Christmas if you want,” Lexa ignored Clarke’s smiled and blush at the display in the box.

“My mom would freak.”

“Did I mention wine?” Lexa offered sweetly as she stole a handful of candy, earning a slap on her hands despite her success.

“Get your own secret Santa.”

“Maybe I will.”

* * *

**5 Golden Rings**

With less than a week left, there wasn’t much left to do in preparation for Christmas. Clarke found herself ahead of the curve. Gifts were bought for all her friends and she’d finished classes, registered for her final semester. She was even done with work, with the shop closing up for two weeks to give everyone a reprieve.

When faced with a remarkable moment of nothing to do, Clarke felt a bit of restless that made her antsy. She was all anticipation, waiting for her next Secret Santa gift, and she was oddly distracted by the turn of events with her boss and how good she looked in that dress and how she smirked when she leaned close during the Christmas party, and how she was just very nice. That was really taking up much of her free time.

And so, to both distract herself and give herself something to do, Clarke took to the task of converting Lexa to like Christmas.

“I’m really bad at this,” Lexa huffed as she pushed up her sleeves and got more determined. She leaned down, keeping her eye aligned with the surface of Clarke’s kitchen table. “I craft large, intricate things all day.”

“And yet a gingerbread house confounds you,” Clarke chuckled.

The wall of the house fell down once again and Lexa hung her head in shame.

“It’s the glue.”

“You mean frosting.”

“Whatever.”

“Who would have thought that all it would take was a gingerbread house kit to get you excited about the holiday?”

It was hard work, but it was noble work, and Lexa finally mastered it, creating a beautiful, sturdy home. They worked together on their separate homes, and they laughed and enjoyed the terrible music that Clarke picked out. They were friends. Friends who hung out and made gingerbread houses alone together.

Lexa’s was prim and proper. It was textbook, which was spectacular for someone who didn’t give much credit to the holiday. The piping was intricate and precise, the house had shingles and the windows were perfect squares. Beside it sat a monstrosity the likes of a four-year old could recreate. The house was covered in sprinkles and proudly displayed its peppermint and mismatched candies in no discernible order.

“That’s hideous,” Lexa shook her head as she finished her own.

“It has character.”

“Sure.”

“I messed up on one window and then it was a downhill slide after that,” she shrugged, sitting back in her chair as she watched her boss work. “You’re pretty good at that for someone who couldn’t get a wall to stand up.”

“I do craft things for a living.”

“That’s cheating, if you ask me.”

“This was your idea,” Lexa teased, tossing over a grin as she surveyed the homes.

It was enough to make Clarke blush as she pushed herself up from her chair and moved around toward the kitchen, offering her guest a beer and taking one for herself eagerly.

“So did you just never celebrate the holidays as a kid?”

“It was never a big thing,” she shrugged, carefully adding a final piece of her house. “Not like you seem to make it. I’ve never seen anyone get twelve days of gifts.”

“To be fair, I had nothing to do with that. And it’s only been six so far.”

“Still, it’s rather impressive,” Lexa sighed as a knock came to the door. “Do you want me to tell you who it is?”

“I suppose I just have to wait a few more days for them to reveal themselves.”

“What if they don’t?”

“There’s no way someone does all of this and doesn’t take credit for the best present of all time,” Clarke called from the other room. “I mean, honestly.”

“Any guesses?”

Lexa nervously fret with her gingerbread house because it was in front of her and Clarke was trying to make her fall in love with a season. She was already content with the smell of the gingerbread and Clarke’s tiny apartment being a degree too cold. So she sipped her beer and figured out how to stop.

“I think it’s Brandon, down in shipping,” Clarke grinned as she came back into the kitchen with a golden card and a box. “We dated a little bit back at the start of college and reconnected at work. It’d make sense. He’s a sweet guy.”

“Interesting pick. I never knew that.”

“I don’t know if I’m looking for anything. He wanted more. I just-- I don’t know,” she shrugged, dropping the box on the kitchen table. “I like the holidays and I like making houses with you. Outside of that I’m a mess. I have to find a career soon and my family-- It’s just a lot.”

“You know you have a spot with us for as long as you want it.”

“I know,” Clarke smiled and nodded as she tore open the envelope. “But something tells me being around you, who is so passionate about what she creates, and just being a secretary, it’d drive me nuts all day.”

“Still. While you figure things out, you’re safe.”

“Thank you.”

Lexa felt a little too uncomfortable under those eyes, and so she smiled tight, and dug deep into her bottle.

“Go on then. What did your true love get you?”

“Will you stop with that. It’s just the song.”

“Okay.”

“On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,” she read, ignoring the implications. “Five golden rings.”

“Oh man, that’s a lot of rings. One for every finger.”

“Hush.”

Lexa did as she was told, eagerly watching Clarke open the box that came with the card. There was something innately satisfying in watching her enjoy the magic, and for just a few instants, Lexa understood the appeal of the season.

“You never struck me as a jewellery type.”

“I’m usually not,” Clarke furrowed as she opened the box, gazing at each ring that appeared. “But these aren’t that. They’re donuts.” Her laugh came next, ringing out loud and clear in the apartment. “From my favorite shop.”

“Much more your speed,” Lexa agreed, stealing one. “This one might be my favorite yet.”

“Me too,” she nodded, taking a bite herself.

* * *

**4 Colly Birds**

“You should just tell her you like her,” Anya muttered as she fixed some of the files on her desk. “It’s you, right? Sending Clarke all those gifts?”

“As keeper of the list, I cannot divulge any information,” Lexa shook her head and leaned back in the chair, tilting her head back until she stared at the ceiling. 

Despite being closed, they were never truly away from work. The workers were off, paid and enjoying their vacation, preparing for a new year, and the sisters did what they normally did, which was a round of cleaning, a way to prepare for the new year on a clean slate. Mostly it was Anya fixing the books and such. Mostly, it was Lexa being bored with no work to do and bothering her sister until she relegated herself to her bench to work on a pet project that she never gave herself time to finish.

Today though, she wasn’t sure what kept her in the chair and near her sister. Perhaps it was the holiday. Perhaps it was the comfort.

“I’ve seen how you look at her. It’s ridiculous. You practically dropped your jaw on the floor when I introduced you both.”

“I did not.”

“You can barely talk to her without losing your mind.”

“I’m fine. I don’t like Clarke. That’d be silly.”

“Why?”

“Because… because… because-- because she’s an employee, and she’s in college, and I’m too busy to think about that,” Lexa defended herself weakly, barely able to remain cool and calm. Instead, she fret over her sleeves, agitated at the notion of it.

“You’re a literal emotional lemming, did you know that?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged indifferently.

Lexa felt her phone vibrate and pulled it from her pocket to find the picture of the days gift and Clarke’s smiling face.

_On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… four colly birds. Okay. I changed my mind. Tell me who is giving me these amazing gifts._

Accompanying the pleading was Clarke holding up four comic books for Black Canary, her smile wide and clearly still in the middle of a laugh.

Lexa locked her phone and shoved it back in her pocket, afraid to look up at her sister.

* * *

**3 French Hens**

The maps were one of her favorite clues, and true to form, Clarke found herself wandering around with a hand drawn clue that came with her envelope of the day. Truer to form, Raven found herself tagging along on the excursion in the name of saving her friend from being abducted by a Christmas-obsessed axe murderer despite Clarke’s assertion that no one killed with axes anymore.

The snow stayed away, off the water and distant as a memory while the first round of weather settled on the town, crunched itself down, morphed into dirty, dingy clumps in gutters and on street corners. The lights of the city burned a little brighter with the aid of so many Christmas decorations.

The spirit of the season was catching.

“These instructions are getting a little bossy,” Raven snorted as she adjusted her coat and cringed at the cold that slipped into her heels as they walked down the sidewalk.

“This is the exciting part,” Clarke scolded, squinting at the map.

“It’s supposed to be three french hens, not an epic hike across the city in the freezing cold.”

“I’m sure that’s what will be waiting for us,” she promised, turning down another side street. “Oh no.”

“Oh wow.”

“This can’t be… what?”

“Now this is way better than some stupid dinner,” Raven nodded eagerly as the pair stood outside of a burlesque bar styled in the old french way, roaring with music and spirits and dancing.

Cigarette smoke billowed out as the door opened.

“I’ve always wanted to go to one of these,” Clarke chuckled. “They know me pretty well.”

“Does that narrow it down at all?”

“No.”

“Well, let’s go think it over with some french hens.”

“Yes, let’s,” Clarke nodded, looping her arm with her friends as she gripped the tickets that were her gift of the day.

* * *

**2 Turtle Doves**

The house outside the city was all manner of perfection in the white snow. The yard was undisturbed, the lights all matched and were perfectly alight on every available surface. Nothing was garish or too much, but rather it was a respectable average in the decorating. But the Christmas Eve party put it all together in a meaningful kind of way.

Friends and family crowded into the large dining room while Clarke’s parents sat at both ends, enjoying the drink sand the people that came from around the neighborhood and across town to eat dinner and have fun before Santa came.

It was in the middle of the party that the doorbell rang. Clarke found herself scolded as she ran toward the door, quickly slipping out of the boring party. She hated it. She liked the party at the shop better, with the people and drinking and loudness.

The golden envelope sat on the porch with familiar lyrics inside it. It came with a box and no sign of another living person on the quiet cul-de-sac. Behind her, Clarke heard her mother start to say something, and she stepped out into the cold as the room laughed.

“Two turtle doves,” she murmured to herself as she picked up two little wooden toys that were just turtles with wings. “There’s no way.”

Almost afraid, Clarke hesitated before tilting one of the little toys over to find the familiar mark of her boss on its belly.

“There’s no way,” she repeated to herself as she looked back out at the world again, hoping to catch sight of someone else. But the world was quiet, and Christmas was here.

* * *

**And a Partridge in a Pear Tree**

For the morning, Clarke hesitated. The entire morning was a giant hesitation. She did presents with her family, and she impatiently waited for her final gift from her Secret Santa. And even then, she hesitated, hovering over Lexa’s name in her phone, unsure of what to say, and so she kept quiet, constantly hesitating.

By the time she made it back home, to her own apartment, she was convinced nothing was coming except the snow. Fat flakes frolicked, frivolous and fogging up the entire skyline of the world. Clarke dropped her gifts from her arms, earning a thud on her kitchen table and with a sigh, she relegated herself to another season behind her, and reasonably successful at that.

She made herself a cup of tea and steeped the tea bag as she recalled her twelve days, smiling to herself as the warmth poured out of her mug and right into her chest at the memories. Lexa organized blocks of churches to overwhelm her with sound, got her tickets to the ballet that she wanted to see, her favorite show to binge, a group of drummers, milkshakes from her favorite ice cream parlour across town, a paddle boat tour, eggs filled with her favorite candies, her favorite donuts, her favorite comic book hero, tickets to a burlesque show, and beautifully crafted, and very cute, little carvings.

When she thought about it, she only then realized how much Lexa knew Clarke, and how hard she must have worked at it. Clarke cast a forlorn glance to the sweater she’d bought but been too afraid to give, realizing how badly she’d messed up.

But someone knocked on her door anyway, even though Christmas was basically over, and she opened it, too distracted with remembering to realize there was another verse to the song.

“And a partridge and a pear tree,” Lexa smiled nervously, holding out an envelope.

“It was you,” Clarke sighed, startled, despite the fact that she knew. She was still hesitating to believe it or have hope for a Christmas Miracle.

“It was me,” she nodded, shifting anxiously on her feet. “Are you going to take it?” Clarke did, despite not knowing how. She opened the envelope and read the words. “It’s not a pear tree, but it’s a tree. Your name is on a plaque beside one at the Conservatory. It’s a pretty decent tree, as far as trees go.”

It was the rambling that did it. Lexa didn’t talk, let alone ramble, and for that, Clarke was all but smitten with her boss.

“You work for me. I don’t want to overstep a line, but I just… I wanted you to have a good Christmas.”

Still, Clarke stood motionless, unable to think. It was only when Lexa shifted back and forth that she turned around and walked back inside.

“I got you something,” she offered, juggling everything in her hands. “I wanted you to have a good Christmas too, and this just… it felt like you.”

“But you didn’t know I was your Secret Santa, did you?”

“Not until last night.”

“So why did you get me something?” Lexa furrowed and took the present into her hands.

“Because I like you,” Clarke shrugged and clung to her mug of tea against the words.

Neither acknowledged the words directly. Lexa only felt her eyes go wide before she had to look away and back at the package in her hands. Clarke blushed furiously and felt like an idiot. There, in the doorway to her apartment, she held her breath and let Lexa open it.

“This is a very cozy looking sweater,” she smiled, holding it up against her shoulders as she crumpled up the wrapping. “Thank you. Can I try it on?”

“Please.”

As soon as her head popped through the top of her new sweater, Lexa felt lips on her lips. She stiffened before melting into the warmth of her new piece of clothing and the new lips that attached themselves to her own. A coffee mug pressed against her sternum, and she didn’t care, just craved the entire warmth that existed in that moment.

“I’m really glad it was you, and not Vinny from lumber,” Clarke sighed, biting her lip slightly as she finally took a breath.

“Me too,” Lexa nodded.

“Merry Christmas, Lexa.”

“Merry Christmas, Clarke,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against her’s. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Outside, the snow finally stopped, and the city rang with bells that struck midnight.


	26. Day 26- Stud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What about a Stud Christmas!? Who is with me!? :D

“You’re so damn gorgeous,” Lexa shook her head. “I’m offended. It’s a problem. I can’t believe you’re allowed to look like this. It should be illegal.”

Clarke shook her head and blushed as Lexa helped her out of the car and into the waiting throws of the photographers at the annual Christmas party. There had been a few changes made in the past years though, from the first that Clarke attended, though the thing that remained the same was her ridiculous girlfriend.

“You clean up pretty nice yourself.”

“Do you know how hard it was for me to find a Christmas sweater like this, with no pom-poms?”

“I can’t even imagine,” Clarke chuckled.

She was funny. No one else would really know that, but Clarke did. She liked Lexa’s suave and forceful side. She liked that she could look at her from across the room and be completely flustered by the intensity of her gaze. She liked Lexa’s determination and stoicism and strength. She was hardworking and often dry, she was a nerd and she was not one for much talking to people who weren’t intimate friends.

They pair made their way toward the door, pausing for the pictures, like the perfect little couple that everyone mocked them for being. They were loved and admired and goals.

Even in a stupid sweater, Lexa was perfect. She collar of her button up stuck out from the sweater with snowmen on it. She was that small smirk and she was holding on her girlfriend’s hip and showing her off proudly.

“I’m so excited we get to see the animals,” Clarke grinned as she was led inside the zoo entrance that was decked out in Christmas decor.

The idea came when Lexa visited Clarke’s class on day as she waited to take her to lunch. She sat in the back and observed and listened, and was absolutely taken by the tiny creatures who were rapt with her girlfriend. And she remembered how much fun she had at Clarke’s faculty Christmas party. And thus, she convinced her dad, which was not much of a battle, for as much as he loved the annual ritzy party, he was oddly relieved to not be as haunted by the ghost of his wife at every turn. This was new, and once again, he understood how his daughter was growing.

Schools from three different neighborhoods were invited, with kids from Children’s Hospital, for an entire night at the zoo and Christmas spectacular. All with homemade, ugly sweaters, all very eager for presents and cake and the animals.

“Wow, Lex, you did an amazing job,” Clarke gasped as she surveyed the area. It was a wonderland, and so much louder and more alive than the previous parties.

“I just suggested it,” she shrugged. “My dad went with it.”

“Still, I know you had a lot to do with it.”

“I just wanted to see the penguins.”

With that deflection of praise, Clarke gave up, instead, electing to squeeze Lexa’s hip as they walked into the wonderland.

A large tree sat in the middle of the large space that housed the nucleus of the party. The lights gracefully swirled around it, while various sizes of ornaments sparkled and shined. Kids ran around and guests were generally cheery, pausing only for a moment to wish them a happy holiday.

At one point, before they made it into the zoo itself, Lexa was pulled into some coloring contest with some little ones, obviously coloring outside the lines, despite her best efforts. At another, Clarke hugged Anya as they perused the monkey cage and waited for their dates to catch up to them.

“Hey, Clarke,” Aden finally appeared, hurrying to catch up with familiar faces.

“Hey! How’s it going?” she greeted him warmly, hugging him as quick as she could. “Man, you’re seriously growing. I saw you two weeks ago and now you’re at least six inches taller than that.”

“Dad’s afraid I’m not going to stop growing.”

“I am too.”

“You look like your dad so much,” Anya shook her head and snorted. “It’s ridiculous.”

“He takes credit for that too,” Aden rolled his eyes and tossed the messy mop of hair away from his eyes. “Did you see the polar bears? The hippos were eating entire watermelons. Mom used to bring us to the zoo for the hippos.”

“I didn’t know that,” Clarke smiled slightly as she caught Lexa across the crowded room.

“Oh yeah,” the youngest continued. “She loved them the most. We’d sit in the little room under the water and watch and eat lunch.”

“That’s really nice.”

“Yeah, it’s something.”

“You spend too much time with your sister,” Clarke teased. “Care to show girl around the grizzly bears?”

Aden was tall, like his father and sister, and still growing. He had Alex’s square jaw and brutish features as opposed to Lexa’s slender, graceful ones, but there was something so very genetically similar between them all, that Clarke didn’t know how to articulate how very close they all were.

But when he extended his elbow for her, and he had this glint in his eyes and a handsome face, so she knew, like his sister, he was going to be absolute trouble. But, like Lexa, she took his arm anyway.

As much as Lexa hated the routine, she was infinitely appreciative that Clarke understood her duties. A party like this, even fun and lighthearted in comparison to the stuffy, elegant Christmas parties of before, still meant mingling. It meant that she had to mingle, still, even after stepping back, and it meant that Clarke had to be lovely and charming, which was never a stated fact, but a role that she just took well enough.

But eventually, Lena felt she’d done enough, and she caught sight of Clarke disappearing with Aden and Anya to have fun, and Lexa decided to join after the third or fourth boring conversation and question about how she was doing and where she was looking to move next. With no answers, she thought it was a good time to disappear.

All she had to do was follow the sound of laughter and joy and Clarke. Lexa could feel Clarke, or at least that was what she thought.

“Let the kids look,” Clarke laughed, tugging Aden as a gaggle of kids pressed close to the hippo exhibit. “You’re too big.”

“So this is what you guys do?” Lexa interrupted.

The two were holding large trays of food and watching the hippo family swim around and chomp on little gourds. Clarke and Aden shared a look and nodded after looking at Lexa.

“Don’t judge us. These little mac’n’cheese balls are amazing,” Clarke protested. “Want one?”

Different groups of kids trailed in as the group hung in the back eating the food and laughing as they enjoyed the holiday. And it was the same as any other party they’d been to growing up, but with animals.

“I want to go see the zebras again,” Clarke asked.

“I’m going to find dad,” Aden rolled his eyes. “She made us sit there for like twenty minutes and all they did was sit there and sleep.”

“I’m also not going back to the zebras,” Anya stood and stretched. “Time to call the babysitter.”

“Looks like you’re stuck with me,” Lexa offered, holding out her hand to drag her girlfriend.

There were lights everywhere, there were Christmas decorations and little trees and lots of kids having a good time, running around with presents and eating lots of goodies. The general feeling was that of happiness and even the animals seemed to feel it. They got their own presents and goodies, playing with new toys and getting special treats.

“I like them the best,” Clarke shrugged. “They’re a good animal.”

“I like the elephants,” Lexa decided. “Aden likes the hippos. Thanks for going with him. I think they remind him of mom.”

“Yeah, he’s a good kid.”

Lexa wasn’t sure why, but Clarke hugged her bicep and kissed her shoulder through her sweater as they meandered around and leaned against a railing, surveying the animals below in their enclosure.

“My mom used to bring us to the zoo every city we went to,” Lexa explained as they watched. “We’d go with Dad on business, and she’d sneak us out. She loved the fish. And she wasn’t perfect. Do you know that it took me a long time to learn that? But damn, would she have loved you.”

“You think?”

“Oh man yeah,” she chuckled and ate a little more cotton candy. “She was convinced whoever would put up with me was a saint.”

“She was pretty close.”

“I’m just really glad you’re around.”

“Me too,” Clarke smiled and kissed her girlfriend’s cheek. “Thank you for inviting all these kids. It was really nice of you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Okay.”

Lexa smiled to herself and she was king of the world.

“I got you something.”

“It’s not Christmas morning yet,” Clarke scolded. “And I swear, if you went beyond our limit–”

“It cost a quarter,” Lexa silenced her, pulling a gumball out of her pocket and cracking it to reveal a necklace with a unicorn on it. “I’m not sure where the unicorn exhibit is, but I thought you’d like it.”

“Now this is some jewellry I can get behind. Thank you.”

“I suppose now is a good time to give you one of your presents as well.”

“Am I going to get mad?”

“You can’t get mad in front of zebras. They’re sensitive,” Lexa taunted and dug in her pocket before unfolding a piece of paper. “It just feels like a good time.”

“So I won’t yell in front of the zebras.”

“Yeah,” she grinned. “So I stayed within our limit. Well, with that unicorn necklace I went over by a quarter. But this was something I did for both of us, but for you, too.”

“If you bought a zebra, I swear, Lex,” Clarke huffed and smiled.

“It’s a donation to the after school art program the city is trying to get started, in your name. Well, our name,” Lexa explained. “I figured you couldn’t be mad for this.”

“You donated… that’s a lot of zeros.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d like that. Since I can’t buy us a house or a boat.”

“We don’t need a boat.”

“We do. We haven’t had boat sex.”

“Not in front of the zebras.”

“I reckon there’d be a few more zeros to have sex in front of the zebras.”

“Lexa,” Clarke warned though her face was still staring at the papers and starting to smile. “Thank you. This is… this is perfect.”

“Merry–” arms choked the rest of the words in her throat. “Christmas.”

Lexa stumbled slightly but still hugged back, right there in front of the zebras.


	27. Monarchy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How about a Monarchy Christmas? Clarke and Lexa spend their first holiday together on vacation. Lexa of course sweeps clarke off her feet with the most extra gift ever. Sweetness ensues.

“These are all good options.”

“Okay, but which one do you prefer?”

Clarke adjusted her legs, crossing them on the couch as she dug the chopsticks into the container of take out, digging for another piece of chicken amidst the noodles. Pictures and files covered her coffee table while Lexa flipped through pictures on her tablet.

The little apartment had lights on the walls, with a fresh tree decked out in all manner of ornaments and tinsel. The radiator warmed the place, but fuzzy socks and sweatpants were necessary still. It smelled like evergreen and gingerbread and vanilla and everything nice, so that when the princess opened the door, she smiled to herself and didn’t realize she did.

Outside, the streets were dusted with snow, while the city glowed orange and yellow, with street posts strung up with bells and wreaths, so that everywhere was ready for the impending holiday celebrations. The frost crept up from the corners of the windows, creating crystals on the panes despite the warmth inside.

With all of the diligence she had in her, Lexa furrowed as she provided options for their holiday plans. They could go anywhere, and it was almost too stressful to have so many options. Naturally, her girlfriend was no help.

“I don’t care where we spend Christmas. So long as you’re around, I’m happy.”

Clarke put down her take out container on a picture of some villa in Italy, right on the beach with its warmth and sun and sand and crystal blue water. She shifted so that she draped herself across Lexa’s shoulders. She kissed her neck and bit her ear lobe.

“This is serious. Bernard is going to kill me if I don’t tell him our plans tomorrow,” the princess grumbled. “My mother runs a tight ship.”

The doctor sighed and growled, annoyed that she wasn’t getting her way.

“But I don’t care,” Clarke complained. “Just pick.”

“It’s our first Christmas together, together,” the princess reminded her. “And it’s been a weird year. We deserve some quiet. So we can go to the chalet in the mountains, or a beach house, or the one at the lake, or we can fly somewhere.”

“You’re doing that thing on Christmas Eve– the veteran’s benefit. I don’t want to travel too far.”

“See? That helps.”

From her spot, Lexa shifted forward and picked a few files out while Clarke did nothing but rub her back and become her scarf. On her knees on the couch, the doctor massaged sore shoulders, digging into the muscles of her girlfriend’s back.

“I can be very helpful. Take me to bed and see how much,” Clarke purred.

Still, steadfast and mostly afraid of her mother, Lexa fought against her absolute weakness for her girlfriend and stared at the files.

“The sooner you help me pick, the quicker I can do that.”

“Fine,” she groaned.

The problem was, they were sitting in Clarke’s two bedroom apartment that creaked a bit and was still not completely unpacked, and Lexa was asking her what picture perfect chalet or cabin or mansion they were to spend a holiday, and sometimes the doctor had trouble with that kind of juxtaposition.

But she looked and she felt Lexa’s back against her chest as it rose and fell with her breath, and Clarke inhaled the smell of her neck and kissed the muscle that connected her shoulder and spine, hiding there.

“It’s our first Christmas together, together. I want it to be special,” Lexa mumbled again. “And I want it to just be us.”

“It feels wrong stealing you from your family when they just got you back.”

“I’ve given them a ton of Christmases. I want us.”

“Oh Lexa,” Clarke sighed. “I think we should stay.”

“That’s your vote?”

“I think that’s why I can’t choose,” she nodded, pulling away slightly. “I want to have dinner with my grandma and parents, and I want you to be there when your dad opens the presents you picked out for him.”

“But I want to see your face more.”

“Well, we’re a couple,” Clarke decided, moving around and sliding into the princess’ lap. “And we’ll have to split our time sooner or later. Let’s compromise.”

“But I have a beach house.”

“Yeah, I know, and it’s tempting.”

“I have a castle in the country,” Lexa tried again, picking up a picture. “It’s not too big. Lots of fires, and just you and me and that lingerie I bought you from Paris.”

“But then you require a battalion of people, the caretakers, your guards– they deserve a Christmas, and if you’re here, then less people have to miss their families.”

“Did I mention the cabin in the mountains? It has a heated pool and hot tub and–” Clarke just gave her a list and smiled gently. “I sorted all of these things and you didn’t even want to go anywhere.”

“I want to go everywhere with you. Why don’t we go to one of those places the day after?”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. For a few days. Bring the lingerie and we can skinny dip in that heated pool.”

“Yeah?” Lexa asked, her face deathly serious as she pouted at her hard work being for nothing. But Clarke soothed it and knew what to say.

“Which dinner is more important for your family?”

“Christmas Eve.”

“Perfect. We’ll do Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with your family, and then dinner at mine for Christmas day.”

“Why couldn’t you have said this a month ago?” Lexa complained, tossing her papers onto the coffee table.

“You were so excited.”

“Yeah, well.”

“Don’t pout.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” Clarke grinned as Lexa crossed her arms and leaned back against the couch. “But I’m still going to kiss your face.”

To her credit, Lexa let her. She didn’t really have a choice in the matter. She felt Clarke’s lips, warm and soft against her jaw and then her neck and she felt her shift into her lap, so she was straddling her, and her hands, completely unaware of the mild frustration she was experiencing, grabbed her girlfriend’s ass eagerly.

“I really wanted it to be just us.”

“It will be. But I don’t know how many more holidays my grandmother has left, and I missed so many while I was away.”

“I know you are right. I don’t have to like it.”

Clarke smiled in her victory.

“We’ll take a trip. We haven’t done that since we’ve been together.”

“I met you in a foreign warzone.”

“That wasn’t for pleasure.”

“You got pleasure though,” Lexa wiggled her eyebrows and held tighter to hips as she adjusted her own, earning grinding.

“Your mom is going to love the plans I made.”

“Are you doing it just to make her happy?”

“No,” she shrugged. “But the bonus of her like me is not lost.”

“Let’s not talk about her…” Lexa muttered, trailing off as she leaned forward to kiss her girlfriend’s neck. “Or anything.”

“Ever again,” she nodded slowly, tilting to enjoy more lips.

* * *

The tree was at least twenty feet tall and full of every light and ornament and ribbon imaginable. It took up a large portion of the living room in front of the giant windows that looked out onto the grounds of the palace, themselves draped in an undisturbed blanket of snow that glowed in spots with their own decorations and lights, the entire way to the treeline that hid the fence.

And Clarke sat on the ottoman with a cup of coffee and Lexa on the floor between her legs, and she stared up at the very top of it, smiling into her drink about the trajectory of her life.

For no reason at all, she kissed the princess’ hair as she spoke to her brother about something they were debating. Lexa leaned her arm on Clarke’s thigh and settled there, at ease in her chunky holiday sweater that her girlfriend liked.

Before she could see it, a flash went off, and Clarke found the source in the form of the king slowly lining up another shot. Lexa groaned and put her hands up.

“He always does this,” she sighed. “I forgot.”

“The camera comes out for every holiday. You should see the photo album,” Aden agreed as their father took another picture.

“I’d like to see awkward, preteen Lexa actually,” Clarke grinned.

“Nope.”

“I will later,” she whispered, earning an eye roll.

“We haven’t had everyone home for the holidays in years,” the king smiled at the scene. “Al’s been abroad, your sister went to the in-laws last year, and before that, your mother decided to spend it traveling. I’m so glad everyone’s back.”

“And with more people,” Aden offered.

As effortlessly as always, the heirs to the throne, the future queen herself and her husband, the consort, wafted into the room, perfect and beautiful as always. They were incredibly smitten and it just showed, so naturally even though they just stood beside each other. The body language was intimate and knowing, and Clarke loved that it was real.

All at once, the family took their seats, and Clarke joined seamlessly. It was easy to be a part of something when Lexa didn’t leave her side.

Her girlfriend was kind enough to put both their names on all of the gifts. Clarke thought it to be exceptionally generous considering she did most of the shopping while dragging along a very unwilling princess.

“You really didn’t have to get me anything,” Clarke shook her head as the patriarch handed over a large, elegantly tied box. “We weren’t even sure we were staying.”

“Either way, we thought something nice would be waiting for you,” the queen smiled politely. “Luckily you convinced our wayward daughter to spend time with family.”

“It wasn’t too hard,” she lied as she undid the bow.

Just as eager, Lexa watched and tried to sneak a look.

“I hope it’s not better than what I got you.”

“I don’t know,” Clarke smiled as she pulled out the red coat she’d been eyeing when they went shopping. It was too much money for her to splurge on for herself. “This is beautiful. Thank you.”

“I saw it and thought of you,” the queen nodded. “You’re much easier to shop for than Lexa, who wants nothing.”

“I love it. Thank you so much.”

Clarke slipped on her coat and smiled happily as the group moved on with the ret of the gifts. She hadn’t expected too much, or rather anything, but she was included and she felt warm about it. It was much too late for her to realize she could get used to it.


	28. Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walls verse. If Clexa really wanted to keep their new “whatever” quiet, maybe they shouldn’t have snuck back to Lexa’s during the holiday party for “ice”

**Wednesday, December 12th, 7:41PM**

The holiday was imposing itself everywhere. The signs, the streets, the lights, the snow– all of it was brimming with cheer and mirth, but it stopped at the entrance of the loft. 5C didn’t show any sign of joy, but 5B was brimming with it.

Lexa left a trail of needles as she dragged in a small, squat tree that she set up in the corner of her studio. She wrapped it in multi-color lights, and she hung more lights from the rafters by tossing them haphazardly from beam to beam until everything was awash in a warm glow. Her piano frequently belted out holiday songs and filled the world with even more happiness.

The following day, she brought a smaller version of her own tree for her neighbor. She put some lights on it and earned a huge hug and kiss when a tired bartender made it home and then walked over to her loft, leaving her door wide open again.

There hadn’t been talk of what was happening between them. It just kept happening and kept getting familiar.

Before she even tugged open her own door, Clarke knew that there was something good waiting on the other side. Even after an exhausting double, she somehow just knew that Lexa would be waiting. There was some sort of comfort there– they were comfortable together, enough to do things for each other.

“It smells good in here,” Clarke smiled as she yanked open her door and was met with a wall of smell and warmth.

The cold outside made her cheeks pink, but it was bitten away with being home.

“I thought you’d be hungry,” Lexa offered over her shoulder as she did something impressive with a pan full of food over an open flame. “And I’ve been told my penne alla vodka is panty-droppingly good.”

“I hope not.”

“Oh?”

“Someone who looks like you, plays piano like you, volunteers at an animal shelter in their spare time, and is as good in bed sure as hell better not be able to cook well, too. It’s just not fair for us mere mortals.”

Despite how busy she was and the sizzling noises that came from dinner, Lexa tossed back her head and laughed. Clarke could earn those, and that was what kept her believing she had a chance to keep Lexa around for a while; if she wanted to even do that, of course.

“It’s just this one dish,” she promised, pulling the towel from her shoulder as she began to plate the food.

Clarke rolled her eyes and moved through the kitchen toward the wine that waited, moving her hands to Lexa’s back where she leaned forward and kissed her jaw and her neck before allowing her to continue with the preparing of the delicious smelling dinner.

“You’re spoiling me, babe. I’m not used to a hot meal and a hot chef.”

“Thought it’d be a nice surprise. I can do that, right?”

“Surprise me?” Clarke chuckled as she took the first sip from her glass. “Yeah, you can do that all you want.”

“Cool.”

“Did you think you couldn’t?”

“I think that I like you, but you are very aloof.”

“I like to keep you on your toes.”

“Then you’d be successful,” Lexa offered. “Pick out some music and I’ll finish up?”

“Did you bring me some more albums?”

“A few.”

Clarke made her way toward the record player Lexa donated and the stack that began to accumulate. It wasn’t often that music wasn’t already filtering in from the musician’s place or from her very fingers, but now Clarke was receiving an education in the form of random records left at her place.

She didn’t mind. She liked Lexa’s face when she listened.

A gentle melody began to play and holiday music filled the air, much to Clarke’s amusement. It was old, an orchestra or something, but it was decidedly jolly in nature.

“This looks spectacular,” Clarke promised the chef as she stole a cucumber from the salad and hovered, hungry and eager.

“It’s pretty easy, honestly.”

“I don’t believe it, but I’m very happy you made it.”

“Okay,” Lexa hummed to herself, pausing in the kitchen to survey the meal on the counter. “I think we’re good.”

She wiped a forearm across her forehead as Clarke took to a stool across from her.

“Let’s eat.”

“No two better words have ever existed,” Clarke nodded with a smile as Lexa joined her.

And it was delicious. Clarke moaned, completely unintentional but in a way that made Lexa quirk an eyebrow. She just smiled and sipped her wine, happy to earn that noise, in any capacity.

“Okay, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” the bartender melted. “And I’m just now trying this? You’ve held out on me, Woods.”

“I couldn’t spoil you too soon.”

“That’s fair,” Clarke chuckled.

Lexa nervously pushed food around her plate as she tried to choose her words.

“So I’m having some people over on Saturday night.”

“Cool. I promise not to be a terrible neighbor and call the cops.”

“You should come over, too. To meet them.”

Despite herself, despite the meal and the gesture, and the uncertainty of what it meant to be sleeping with Clarke in an ill-defined relationship-esque way, Lexa held her breath at the suggestion and refused to look up at Clarke.

“To meet who?” Clarke furrowed, caught in the trap and incapable of escaping. Instead, she just took another bite.

“My friends. You know… people I spend time with when I’m not with you.”

“Oh, those people, right, right,” she nodded, chewing slowly. “Are you inviting me as your date, or as your neighbor?”

“Which one gets you to say yes?”

The look. That damned smile and those eyes and the whole swarthiness that seemed to exist in the musician, it was all too much for Clarke and she was just so damn weak when she got a look like that. Anyone would be, she told herself. She wasn’t sure if that was true, but she did know that she sure as hell was weak.

“I’m still not sure what this,” Clarke gestured between her plate and Lexa’s, “is, exactly. And I don’t know what that means, but I do like spending time with you. I just don’t want to mess this up by–”

“Listen, I was kidding. We’re neighbors who have sex.”

“Lexa– Don’t. It’s more than that.”

“It is, but we’re figuring it out and you don’t want to meet my friends. That’s totally fine. I get–”

“I didn’t say that!” Clarke interjected quickly.

“I swear, it’s cool. We’re fine.”

“Lexa. I want to meet your friends. I just don’t have an answer for what we are, and I know you’d like one, but I just want to make it through the holidays until I can see straight and I’m not working crazy hours and my emotions aren’t leaning toward liking you.”

“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” Lexa grinned.

They were quiet and eager to say things they didn’t know how to say. Lexa finally put her fork down and eagerly took a sip of wine because it was safer and because she was so damn thirsty after looking at a pretty girl who made those noises.

“I’m going to come to your party as your friend,” Clarke decided. “And I’ll bring you back to my place after.”

“I’ll tell my friends you’re my neighbor and friend.”

“Is it enough?”

“It is,” she nodded. “For now. I get it. I want to take my time, too.”

“Good.”

“So was it the dinner that made you say yes or–”

Before Lexa could finish, Clarke tossed her napkin at her and made her laugh. Somewhere in the candlelight and the music swirling around, with the cold outside and the too warm kitchen lulling them into a peaceful state, they ate and laughed and caught up with such ease and comfort, that Clarke wondered what was stopping her from committing.

* * *

**Saturday, December 16; 7:23AM**

When Clarke woke, she fought against leaving her bed. She burrowed into a naked back, which shivered against the imposition of a cold nose against warm skin. Her alarm beeped and she snoozed it before turning into someone who latched onto the other body in her bed.

She had a lot of work, and a lot of hours that separated climbing out of bed and climbing back into it. She really liked the idea of drunkenly climbing onto Lexa before falling asleep later. She liked that idea enough to climb on top of her to start the day.

“Good morning,” Clarke whispered as she ground her hips into Lexa’s and kissed her neck. She pressed herself against her and listened to her growl as she woke.

“I don’t want to wake up.”

“Me neither.”

“You have to work, huh?”

“I do,” Clarke murmured as she kissed and slid her hand up ribs.

“Can I sleep here? I don’t want to move.”

“I want you to move.”

“I gave you two orgasms last night,” Lexa complained with a yawn. “Let’s sleep.”

Defeated, Clarke sighed and slid so she was completely covering the tired girl in her bed. She stayed still for a few moments and listened to her heart beating. She felt hands rub her back and try to lull her back to sleep.

“I have to go to work,” Clarke complained. “Stay and sleep.”

“You’ll be at my party later?”

With a final kiss, Clarke slid out of bed. She watched as the body in the bed curled up and squinted up her face at the loss of heat.

“If I don’t get lost on my way to your place, I’ll make an appearance. Now sleep.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

In just a few seconds, Lexa was already drifting off to sleep, and Clarke watched her face in the not dark, not light of the early winter morning and couldn’t help but like her a little bit more.

* * *

**Saturday, December 16; 9:02PM**

The party was loud. The neighbors all joined in, so no complaints were heard. Instead, just music and laughter boomed and shook the walls of the normally quiet building.

Lexa went all out. The lights, the music, the food, the overflowing bar– it was all exactly what everyone needed to bring in the holiday spirit. And as much fun as she was having, between playing a few songs, and joining a few games, she found herself checking the door every few minutes, hoping to see a familiar blonde make her way inside.

A tiny part of her wasn’t sure that Clarke would actually come. She couldn’t place it exactly, and she was far from someone who knew anything about a good relationship or how to commit without feeling this intense fear of being left, but Lexa liked Clarke, and she knew, deep down, that this was a moment– it was their moment. If Clarke came… it just meant something.

“I’m going to fuck the drummer,” Anya whispered fairly loudly as she slung her arm over her sister’s shoulder.

“He has a girlfriend.”

“Not that one,” she laughed. “That one.”

Lexa followed her sister’s gaze to the brunette in the big blue Hanukkah sweater. She rolled her eyes and drank from her red solo cup before shaking her head.

“Raven is an enigma.”

“I like it.”

“This is why Mom says she’s never going to get grandkids.”

“Because we’ll sleep with anyone?” her sister furrowed, surprised by the conversation.

“No, because we only go for emotionally unavailable vagabonds.”

“But we’re kind of emotionally unavailable vagabonds, if you’re being honest.”

With a sigh, Lexa nodded after considering the truth there. Her sister patted her cheek before reaching past her and pouring them another drink which Lexa accepted without protest.

After another withering look at the door, Lexa found herself tugged into a game of Christmas beer pong. She found herself having a good time with her friends despite the words now buzzing through her ears.

It was somewhere between a stirring rendition of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” set to a very uptempo beat and watching her sister somehow manage to get her drummer under the mistletoe, that Lexa did a double-take and found the eyes she was hoping she’d meet.

Immediately, Lexa excused herself and wove through the crowd, smiling, and slightly intoxicated for so many reasons.

“Hey,” Lexa grinned, standing in front of the girl, who just about fifteen hours ago, laid atop her naked and begged for sex. It came out much more bashful than it should have, considering those facts.

“Sorry I’m a little later than I expected. I got stuck late, and I had to change. Is this okay?” Clarke asked, looking down at her green sweater with drinking elves on it, much to Lexa’s amusement.

“It’s perfect. You look very festive.”

“Thanks,” she grinned. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

There was this urge to kiss Clarke. Lexa nearly always had it, but only when she was aware that she couldn’t did she actively feel it and have to fight it. Instead, they just stared at each other and smiled like idiots.

“Can I get you a drink? Maybe show you around?” Lexa offered, teasing and all. “I’m not sure you’ve ever been to my place.”

Clarke stuck close to Lexa’s side as they moved through the crowded loft. She saw the group of musicians playing funny songs and showing off, and she saw Lexa’s sister getting rather personal with a girl Clarke couldn’t quite recognize, but knew, almost, possibly from passing in the hall or something.

Somewhere between her third and fourth drink, Clarke got introduced to nearly all of the people at the party. Some she did actually know, and most she just smiled and asked how they knew Lexa. Everyone was kind and on the road to drunk.

Luckily, when Lexa was called upon to do her best rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock” and went full Jerry Lee Lewis on it, Clarke sat beside a group that she knew from early on in the year, and watched the show. No one saw that Clarke couldn’t take her eyes off of the girl at the piano because no one else could either. But something about the way Lexa stood up and beat on the keys, tossed her hair back and half-laughed her way through the song, it as captivating.

It was after midnight, but the crowd applauded the effort as soon as the song finished and Lexa took an exaggerated bow, her face slightly red from performing and the attention. She looked at Clarke for an instant and tried to not focus for too long.

“Okay, okay,” she hushed the crowd. “Phillip, I’d love to hear a folky version of ‘You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch,’ if you think you’re up to it.”

“Oh, I’m up to it,” he laughed and hopped up. “Raven, care to help me out? Murph on bass?”

The little trio talked for a moment as they prepared themselves, and Lexa slid next to Clarke. She only picked her friend because he was sitting there. It was shameless and she didn’t care at all. She was shameless herself.

“That was pretty impressive,” Clarke nudged Lexa’s shoulder.

“Not often I get to do that. Most of the requests I get lately are or ‘that soft one that sounds like a carnival,’ or ‘something to put me to sleep,’” she quoted what Clarke often asked her to play.

“I’m just glad you’re finally showing some breadth.”

Lexa smiled, dopey and mildly drunk. She looked at Clarke’s cup and then at her own empty hands.

“We should go get some ice from your place. I think I’m out.”

“I don’t know if I have any– oh, oh– ice, yes,” Clarke nodded, staring at Lexa’s lips for a second too long.

The music started and they slipped out, muttering about ice as they excused themselves from blocking different people and tripping over legs.

* * *

**Sunday, December 17; 12:48AM**

“Oh God!”

The music stopped and earned its applause, but something caught Anya’s ear as she poured herself another drink in the kitchen.

_“Like that? You like that? I know you do.”_

Even though another song started and the voices kicked up, and someone said something that earned a loud burst of laughter, she couldn’t quite shake the muffled words she thought she heard.

_“Oh fuck. Yes, fuck, yes. Mmmmmmmmmm.”_

Anya looked around and saw that no one else really noticed, but she stared at the wall as if it were going to open up and show her its secrets.

“Hey, did you get lost or see a ghost?” Raven moseyed up beside the beautiful, leggy woman in the kitchen who had been throwing her major vibes for the entire night.

“I think I can hear the neighbors…” she mumbled, moving a little closer to the wall. “Having sex.”

_“Fuck, yes. Right– right– uuunnnnnnggg.”_

Raven smiled into her drink and watched the confusion passing over the pretty girl’s face.

“Damn. That’s impressive,” Anya nodded. “I thought the whole building was here though.”

“That’s Clarke’s place.”

“That hot blonde that Lexa is in love with?”

_“That’s it. God you’re so fucking beautiful.”_

“That would be the same Clarke.”

Raven prepared for the inevitable. She pulled out tequila and poured herself a healthy shot, and set one on the counter for Anya.

“I wonder if–”

_“Lexa! Fuck, please. Lex, please.”_

Putting it all together, Anya took a step back from the wall that separated the two lofts and covered her mouth with her hand. She took a second before big, wide eyes looked to Raven for the inevitable confirmation which just came with a sad nod and awkward smile.

“These walls are too thin,” Anya shook her head and accepted the shot, hoping to block out any future noises from her memory.

“Try living beneath them,” Raven sighed.


	29. Snowed In (Part 3)

Deep in the mountains, the storm approached quickly, blustering against every nook and crevice, attacking the world with a malicious kind of cold that could only be described as absolutely painful. The inhabitants did the best they could, leaving for airports early, attaching snow tires and fleeing to lower elevations, but by the time the evening rolled around, and Main Street was a ghost town, there was no possible way anyone else was leaving, and all that remained were those who knew how to weather such storms.

Lexa warmed her hands by blowing in them, the weight of the fact that she had a home full of people waiting for her as some of the last set of brake lights disappeared toward the highway.

The street was empty as the snow came down, blurring out anything over two blocks away.

Very alone, Lexa stood in the middle of the Main Street intersection and looked around at her adopted town. The lights from the decorations were spotty, some left on while other whole storefronts were left completely dark, and it seemed about right. The officer loved the holiday, loved the idea of a white Christmas, and she just sighed, her breath making a cloud in the air, tucked her hands under her arms, and made her way to the only open place in town.

Completely empty, the diner was almost quiet except for the low hum of Christmas music coming from the radio on the counter. Lexa pulled off her hat and set it on the counter before pulling off her gloves and trying to thaw.

Like so many times before, she found herself smiling as a familiar blonde appeared, unaware of her entry. Quietly, the waitress sang to herself, following along with the music in a pretty little voice. She was still the prettiest girl in town.

Five years, Lexa lived and worked in the small town, and five years, she’d been enamored with the waitress. She let herself melt a little before clearing her throat.

“There you are,” Clarke smiled, all effortless and at ease. “You look like an icicle, officer.”

“A sexy icicle?”

She saddled up to the counter and leaned over it, earning rolled eyes and finally a kiss that came with Clarke taking her free hand to hold Lexa’s chin still and warm her up.

“A very sexy icicle.”

Lexa blushed beneath the cold. She always did and she hated that part of herself, the one that was so pliant and easily influenced by her girlfriend.

“All done for the night or do you have to stay for the rush?”

The diner was completely empty, just like the town. Anyone who stayed behind was hunkered into their homes, and there was no way anyone would be wondering around and in search of a burger or a cup of coffee. The only sound that would exist would be the noise of more snow accumulating.

“Do you really want to hurry home?” Clarke teased back. “I mean, your family is great, but that’s a lot of people.”

“You’re right,” Lexa decided. “We should stay here. You should have kept your place instead of letting that new cook take it.”

“Hey, when you asked me to commit, I committed.”

“But if you still had your place, we could have celebrated our–”

“Don’t you say it,” the waitress stopped her cleaning and held up a finger. “It’s not a real anniversary.”

“Our sexiversary is completely real.”

“I refuse to celebrate the night we got drunk and had sex on my couch in the middle of a blizzard.”

“Why? It was the best night of my life,” Lexa decided.

From the coffee that Clarke had poured at some point in the middle of her wiping down the rest of the counters, Lexa sipped and smiled behind the mug, knowing full well her girlfriend’s opinions on their licentious beginnings.

Behind the waitress, the old decorations glittered. Ancient santas laughed with pink cheeks and noses, while reindeer jumped and were stuck attempting to fly with a sleigh behind them and snowmen danced with hats. The diner never changed, not the tinsel, not the garland, not the mismatched colors and the fake trees and ornaments. None of it, and Lexa loved it all.

“Shut up,” Clarke groaned with a smile. “I’m not celebrating that.”

“One day, you’ll celebrate with me.”

“Whatever you say,” she chuckled before moving to untie her apron. “Hey, Tony, I’m heading out. Close up soon, okay?”

A voice from the back agreed, and Clarke made her way toward the door. Lexa held up her coat and helped her slip into it. She paused only when Clarke turned around, held the lapel of her own coat, and kissed her deeply and with purpose.

“Wow.”

“It was the best night of my life, too,” Clarke grinned. “Just so you know.”

“Feel free to educate me anytime.”

Clarke wrapped her arm around the cop’s bicep and let her lead her out into the snow and the night. Neither really knew what it meant to have family home for the holiday, just that they were now older, and they were people who were stable enough to invite others and host them. It was rough, but it was progressing.

And they made their way out into the street and began the trudge to their home, not really in a rush at all.

* * *

There was a tree in the front window of the house on Third Street. Clarke put it up despite Lexa’s insisting that it wasn’t necessary, and that she liked the disty, draft old apartment above the diner much better.

Lexa’s house was tiny. It was a little one bedroom about a mile away from the center of town, and before a certain waitress, it lacked a distinct holiday flair. But that was rectified this year. This year, Lexa’s little house, with the tiny porch that barely housed her bike and a hammock, that was overrun with lights and the windows boasted decorations like snowflakes and reindeer.

On the plot of land beside her place, a camper had just as many lights around it, the porch she’d spent a week building after work was cleared of snow for the visitors.

The house was alive with people, the windows glowing brighter than normal as Lexa’s entire family was inside. Laughter and music could be heard as they kept themselves busy in the cold. All of it made her pause, tugging Clarke to a stop on the gravel outside of her land. Lexa looked at her house and the snow and she froze herself for a few extra moments.

“Do we have to go in there?” she wavered.

“Yes.”

“Why did I invite my family for the holidays again?” Lexa whined, still not moving despite her girlfriend’s tugging on her arm.

“Because you actually love them, for the most part.”

“Those are vicious lies. Please don’t spread them.”

Tall and stern, Lexa stared at the house and Clarke stared at her. Her eyes were far away, stern and somewhat confused. She set her jaw and her cheeks paled and turned very red in the cold. Snow got caught in her hair.

“Come on, Lex. It’s cold out here,” Clarke complained. “And they’re not that bad.”

“They’re not. I just want it to be quiet and be just us.”

“You’re adorable, just so you know,” Clarke smiled despite Lexa’s not noticing. She tugged at her arm again. “But I’m freezing and we have a sexiversary to celebrate.”

That perked up Lexa’s ears. She looked at her girlfriend quickly and let herself be pulled toward the house without another thought of how silly it was to force family time. It was too late, and so she was ready to give in.

* * *

“Lexa, honey, I couldn’t find smaller baking pan, so I used the larger one, but I made your favorite– chocolate mint bark.”

Lexa stomped her snowy boots against the doorway and made her way into the warmth of her home. The smell felt like stepping back a dozen years, back to when she was a kid, and her mother made the holidays a time for everyone to feel infinitely loved.

“How was your shift?” her father asked from his seat on the couch. He folded his book and looked as she took off her coat.

“Auntie Lexa! I made a snowman for you,” her niece cheered and hopped up into her arms. “Clarke said he might come to life if we dream hard enough.”

“Is that so, kiddo?” the aunt smiled. “Nice quiet night tonight. Traffic duty.”

“Your town is so quiet. I can’t imagine there’s much to do.”

“We get our fair share of crazy.”

“It smells so good in here,” Clarke huffed as she tugged off her hat and shut the door behind her quickly.

The house was bursting at the seams with people and activity. Not one surface remained untouched by anyone else. Her father and brother-in-law lounged and watched a movie while her niece hung from her neck as she walked toward the kitchen where her mother kept rearranging everything.

“I have wine,” Anya offered. “You don’t have much of a selection in town.”

Lexa smiled and accepted the glass her sister offered.

“Long day?”

She earned a look that screamed ‘kill me now,’ and chuckled as she took a free seat and watched as Clarke moved her way toward Lexa’s mother. Instantly, they caught up with each other. Clarke pulled her hair up in a bun and gave her girlfriend a wink. Kids ran around and never seemed to tire.

“I’m about to start another round, do you want to learn?” Lexa’s mother asked the blonde who smiled and eagerly agreed.

Lexa snagged another piece of bark and chomped it happily. Though it was getting late, the family didn’t seem to tire. Lexa found a quiet counter with her sister and drank much too much wine until she thought everything was funny and the tip of her nose was read and she had the squint to her of losing a fight with gravity.

She played cards with her mother and brother-in-law and sister and Clarke, and her father snoozed on the couch while watching movies with the grandkids until they were all nearly falling asleep.

And it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Lexa wanted to complain, but the truth was that she missed her sister dearly. She craved the solitude and the way to distance herself from her family and her father’s legacy, and for glimpses of moments, perhaps with the holiday weighing so heavily, she felt a longing for family.

But she wouldn’t tell Clarke. If she did, she would never hear the end of it.

“I like her,” Anya nodded to herself as she blew on the end of her joint and wrapped an arm around herself against the cold.

The sisters stood on the back porch and watched the family inside with intense curiosity. She offered it to her sister who shook her head and sipped more of her wine.

“I like her too,” Lexa smiled as she watched Clarke help to wrangle a sleeping kid and cary her toward the basement bedroom they’d set up for the large family.

“No, I mean it. She’s way better than the other weirdos you’ve dated.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m trying to give you my approval.”

“I don’t need it.”

“But you want it.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do.”

“What are you two arguing about?” Lexa’s mother asked as she made her way out into the cold of the back porch. “Seriously, Anya? It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Don’t tell Santa,” the oldest grinned and handed over the joint that her mother begrudgingly took and inhaled after a small debate.

“I haven’t gotten a chance to really see you, honey,” she turned her eyes onto her youngest which made Lexa shrink slightly. “You’re working really hard.”

“I like my job. I like my town.”

“I like your girlfriend.”

Anya nudged her sister before blowing smoke up toward the cloudy sky. Lexa shivered a little more, shifting from foot to foot against the cold.

“She doesn’t need our approval,” Anya interjected. “She’s a big girl.”

“You invited your family to your place for Christmas after not seeing us for how many holidays?” the mother shook her head. “You’re kind of curious if we like her.”

“What’s not to like?”

“Nothing. She’s great. A little bossy, but you need that. Very different than your last girlfriend. What was her name? Cosine? Colleen?”

“Costia,” Anya offered. Lexa grumbled into her glass and looked back through the window as Clarke began to clean the kitchen.

“I like Clarke a lot.”

“I’m going to marry her,” Lexa finally stated.

She hadn’t said those words out loud just yet, but watching the waitress laughing and helping her dad find something in the kitchen, just so natural and perfect, with the garland and the lights and the smells of the season infecting her brain and limiting her inhibitions.

Though that could have been the wine.

Anya exchanged a glance with her mother and they both smiled at the idea.

“It’s freezing out here. You’re all going to get sick,” Clarke complained as she made her way outside to the group that now congregated there.

“Lexa didn’t tell you about this tradition?” the mother grinned and handed forward the joint.

“She….” she looked at her girlfriend and back at the joint. “She did not.”

“And then we watch Home Alone,” Anya explained knowingly. “Lexa won’t stop talking about you though. It’s super embarrassing.”

“Shut up!” Lexa growled, earning a smirk from her girlfriend.

“It’s true,” her mother agreed. “She keeps saying such sweet things. She must like you a lot. It’s actually super embarrassing.”

“Aw, babe, that’s cute. Don’t let them tease you too much,” Clarke melted as the pair giggled to themselves.

Lexa was mortified, but she didn’t mind as much when the waitress burrowed into her side for warmth and support. She let her the three of them get giggly, and she sipped her wine and swallowed the feeling of the holidays as deep as she could, ready to get her fill so that she never had to endure it again.

* * *

The old trailer was worn in and in need of some updating. That was why Clarke and Lexa took it for themselves. It’d been a project they’d worked on from time to time, and when the family was invited, they decided to finally give it a go as a second bedroom, so to speak.

Lexa spent a little extra time making it homey for them before her family arrived. She added a space heater and the heated blankets. She filled the fridge with snacks and drinks. She even went as far as to put in some Christmas lights and make it seem festive.

All of it was appreciated by her girlfriend who rewarded her handsomely.

It was too early when Lexa finally woke, rolling around in the bed in the back of the trailer. The sun wasn’t even beginning to try to beat out the clouds, and the world was left dark grey and afraid of the dawn. But still, she found herself waking despite the body pressed close against her side.

“Merry Christmas,” Lexa whispered, sleepily kissing along cheek and jaw and whatever else she could reach.

There was a little bit of wine left in her system, making her groggy and slightly unwell. So she clung a little harder and fought against the inevitable cold that waited outside of the bed, for even with the space heater, the camper would be too cold for her liking.

“Time for presents,” Clarke smiled, though didn’t open her eyes.

“My present is not leaving this bed.”

“Nope.”

Legs moved along her own and Clarke reached back to hold Lexa’s head closer. She wasn’t waking up, even with presents and lips and everything nice waiting for her. She was cozy and warm and that was all she needed, honestly.

“So…” Lexa whispered. “Do you want to commemorate the sexiversary a little more?”

All Clarke could do was laugh and tug her girlfriend closer.

“One day, I’m going to marry you and the only stipulation is going to be for you to forget the word sexiversary.”

“Impossible. It’s my favorite word.”

Clarke groaned and adjusted to Lexa turning toward her. She kissed her arm and wrapped it around herself anyway.


	30. District

The train was full of coats and hats. That seemed to be about seventy percent of the occupancy, while the humans inhabiting the warmth provided were meager additions against the snow that settled firmly in the coldest winter seen in the capital in thirty years. In response to the heat generated by bodies and down-stuffed coats, the windows of the passenger car smudged and obscured the passing towns outside.

For the first time in a while, Lexa hadn’t made the trip north, instead, deciding on a decidedly more western approach to her holiday. She tapped her pen against the newspaper and sighed as she remembered the giant tree she’d be missing. That and the sound of feet running above her head on Christmas morning. That, and her mother’s famous cooking.

But Lexa turned herself away from the depressing and dreary outside and looked at the girl across from her on the train and smiled to herself. Though she’d shed her coat, Clarke had her scarf still around her neck. She lifted her cheap cup of coffee and sipped it before putting it down and turning the page in her book, and she didn’t even notice that Lexa watched it happen in its entirety. It was a moment that the star of would never know, but that the voyeur would keep forever.

“Cheesy 1992 military drama?” Clarke shook her head slightly and stared at her book, holding it up in front of her face, making Lexa smile a little bigger. “C’mon, Congress. I’m so bored.”

“Work around it.”

Lexa held the paper up in front of her face, folded perfectly, as her grandfather had taught her. She waited a second before moving slightly to the right to see if her girlfriend was looking back, and was rewarded with a book quickly adjusting to cover a curious peak. She hid again and waited before looking and finding a tongue sticking out at her before dipping behind a library book.

“I thought you were going to entertain me.”

“I never agreed to that.”

“You did,” Lexa insisted with a shrug. “You said you’d give me a great Christmas break in mucky-muck Perfectville.”

“That’s not the name and you know it.”

“I bet there’s a town square and it’s going to look like all those crumby Christmas movies you make me watch. Maybe I’ll find a beautiful Victorian ghost lady who will help me with my crossword puzzle and we’ll fall in love like a Christmas miracle.”

Clarke put down her book and look at her girlfriend who was suddenly deeply invested in the crossword puzzle. She fought back a smile and fingered her coffee cup, toying with the lid, noncommittally.

“The only way I’ll allow a third into this relationship is if she’s a Victorian ghost with a Christmas curse.”

Lexa choked on her coffee slightly and blanched at the statement, earning a chuckle and eye-roll from the lawyer across the aisle.

“So there’s a chance then.”

“Shut up.”

“Am I Patrick Swayze in this scenario?” she mulled.

Now approaching Rose Haven Station. Now approaching Rose Haven Station, the robotic woman announced as the train began to slow.

“Thank God,” Clarke sighed. “Please don’t bring up ghosts during our visit with my mom.”

“Have they seen some? Are they haunted? Are you a ghost that I’ll fall in love with over Christmas?”

“Why do I put up with you?”

“I’m passably cute, of a sustainable intelligence, live close by, and am the best lay you’ve ever had.”

“Lexa!” Clarke yelped as the train stopped.

The couple next to them tried not to look up, though the women looked over at Lexa for a second, curious as all get out, her husband doing his best to avoid any kind of wrath for looking, he buried his nose in his phone.

“What?”

“Get off the train.”

With a triumphant smile, Lexa excused herself and grabbed their bags while Clarke squeezed through and met her in the aisle.

It was the nerves that did it. Lexa could feel herself getting more and more annoying. She could feel herself finding a kind of uncertainty. It wasn’t that she was afraid of the meet-the-parents situation she was walking into. Weirdly enough, she had an innate confidence in her relationship. Instead, what really scared her and caused those nerves was the idea that maybe she wouldn’t fit into Clarke’s future, and going back to her perfect suburb and perfect house with the town square and carolers and traditions that were outright Dickensian, that all of it would be what Clarke wanted. She had faith for the moment, for the present. She was afraid of the future.

“No talk about ghosts really limits my topics of conversation with your mom,” Lexa complained as she made her way to the platform, her girlfriend firmly in tow. “I left my list at home of things I can talk about.”

“If it comes up organically, by all means, talk about ghosts with my mom,” Clarke shrugged, taking Lexa’s hand.

“Cool.”

Unsure of where she was going, Lexa allowed Clarke to kind of push and tug her through the station, deciding that carrying their bags and being quiet was the best course of action. Somehow, she’d have to survive the holidays at her girlfriend’s house, and she wasn’t sure any parent would be excited to see her standing next to their baby girl.

Sensing the dragging beside her, Clarke let Lexa shove their entwined hands into her pocket. She rubbed her thumb and waited for something else, though she wasn’t sure what. But Lexa kept quiet, tensing her jaw as they rode the escalator down to the lobby area.

“They’re going to love you. And we’re going to have a great holiday, I just know it,” Clarke promised, leaning closer than necessary on the steps.

“I’m excited to see this with you.”

Lexa kissed Clarke’s cheek and felt arms wrap around her waist as she burrowed closer toward warmth and familiarity.

“You’re perfectly charming from time to time. Don’t try too hard.”

“I don’t have much in common with your mom.”

“Neither do I,” she laughed and shrugged. “It’ll be fine.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“If not, you have a plan B in the form of a ghost girlfriend, so really, it’s a win-win for you.”

“That’s true,” Lexa nodded quite seriously, thinking over that fact and taking some solace in the ridiculous notion.

They walked through the cute little station and Lexa found some of her confidence. She was intrigued to see how Clarke grew up, and even more excited to be someone who got taken home to meet the parents. A tiny part of her never expected it.

The town was quaint, as they stepped outside into the fluffy, snow-covered town, and Lexa knew she was right about it. From the big red bows on the old streetlights, to the garland and lights wrapped around every spare surface, a cursory glance at the mood of the town told Lexa that she was right about it being out of a Christmas movie.

“It’s cold,” Clarke shivered as she scanned the area.

“It is winter.”

“Oh! There’s my mom. Are you ready?”

Lexa couldn’t say that she wasn’t, because Clarke was somewhat excited and she was already being tugged toward the woman waving in the parking lot.

* * *

“Just leave it all on the steps.”

“Are you sure?” Lexa huffed, the warmth of the house a welcome reprieve from the chill of the snow outside.

She spent too long gaping at the perfect house on the perfect street of similarly perfect colonials with the perfect yards and perfect decorations. Lexa was frozen because she’d dreamt of growing up in a house like the kid from Home Alone, and here, her girlfriend had done it. No one ever really grew up like that. It was always so very far removed. Or so she’d thought.

“Yeah, we’ll take it up later.”

“Okay.”

“I have some soup I left on low. Should be nice and warm for lunch,” Abby offered, following the procession in as Lexa tugged the scarf from her neck and began taking off her coat.

“That sounds amazing,” Lexa smiled, happy to have the idea of warmth again.

“It’s almost homemade,” Clarke explained as she hung up Lexa’s coat with her own and moved them down the hall. “Our housekeeper comes once or twice a week, she brings it.”

“Damn, Congress.”

“Shut up.”

Clarke didn’t mind that Lexa judged how she grew up. She knew it wouldn’t be anything bad, and if at all, she’d realize that Clarke was very different. She expected it. She knew that Lexa would see the house she grew up in, and she would see the neighborhood and the town, and would not really know what to do with it.

But it felt… something. Clarke couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but as she led her girlfriend down the hall and toward the kitchen, she felt how intimate it was, and how weird it was to be on the receiving end of someone’s intense study of one’s life. And all Lexa did was squeeze her hand and offer that familiar grin.

Lexa sat in Clarke’s kitchen, pulling up a seat and sipping her soup. All of it made Clarke’s chest warm.

“So, honey, what’s on the agenda for today?” Abby asked, standing across from the two guests. “There’s the movie at town hall and ice skating and the Christmas Market.”

“I was thinking a little tour and then the movie tonight,” Clarke wagered. “And the market tomorrow. Raven wants to get drinks, too.”

“And you can’t say no to her.”

“Not even if I wanted to.”

They shared a smile and Clarke sighed contentedly.

“Your family wasn’t too upset you decided to spend Christmas with us, were they?” the mother turned her attention to Lexa.

“My mom wept and my dad sent me an email, but they understood. Now my siblings… they’ll take a bit of time.”

“There’s five of you?”

“Eight.”

“Holy hell. I couldn’t even handle one. Your mother is a saint,” she marvelled, holding her mug of tea close to her chest to ward off the idea of so many kids. Lexa just shrugged.

“I think all of the quiet is going to drive her crazy,” Clarke nudged her shoulder fondly. “I was there when everyone was, and it was… overwhelming doesn’t seem to cover it.”

“How many total?”

“Um, well, there’s the eight, and then my parents, ten. Plus, four spouses, so fourteen, and then six kids, twenty.”

“Wow.”

“It’s busy and loud and chaotic, but we’re used to it.”

“And no tattoos at the kitchen table,” Clarke decided as she cleaned their bowls, placing them in the sink.

“You do that?”

“For her siblings.”

“You have a nice table. Good for it,” Lexa offered, teasing.

Clarke didn’t say it, but she was impressed her mother took so well to Lexa. She hadn’t wanted to when it developed into something more than just a good time for a few nights. He didn’t want to believe that her daughter would be okay going to events with senators with a girl who had a chest full of tattoos. But Abby often underestimated her daughter.

“She’s kidding, Mom,” Clarke promised, giving her girlfriend a look.

“I don’t know, Congress,” Lexa ventured. “I brought my equipment just in case.”

“You did not.”

“Nah, but next time.”

Abby watched the interaction, carefully monitoring her facial expressions, laughing awkwardly when she joyfully realized there wouldn’t be tattoos at her new Williams Sonoma dining table. Warily she looked over at it again, happy to keep it pristine for another day.

“I’m going to show Lexa the rest of the house,” Clarke decided, saving her mother from the panic that crept toward her.

“I have a few things to finish up before dinner, hopefully.”

“Perfect.”

* * *

“So you’re surviving,” Clarke observed as they walked through the sleepy streets, lights burning and glowing bright against the night and the low-hanging clouds that promised more snow.

“Your parents are nice.”

“They’re not the worst.”

“You love them,” Lexa accused with a laugh, earning a shrug.

Their breath came out in clouds that dissolved the stray flurries that curled around them. Clarke grabbed tighter to Lexa’s bicen through her coat, hoping to siphon some warmth from her and keep it for herself. The world was white and pure, quiet and crunching, frozen solid and at peace for the season.

Somehow, it was right there, as they waited at the crosswalk from Maple Avenue onto Main Street, that Clarke watched Lexa, saw the snow flutter around and get stuck in her hair, saw the pink in her cheeks and how cute she looked in her hat. It was that moment that Clarke realized she’d been dating her neighbor, a girl she’d known for years, and it was going well. Very well. Really well, even.

“And you.”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

All at once they stopped moving, and Lexa stared at Clarke, disbelievingly. A truck slid by, pushing aside snow on the road, dragging metal against concrete so that it echoed against the empty storefront.

But Clarke didn’t want to stop moving. She tugged on the arm attached to the person that she felt very strongly for, and had just declared.

“You what?” Lexa asked, her smile growing despite herself.

“I said I love you. Don’t make it weird.”

“Oh, I’m making this weird?”

“We’re going to be late for the movie. I want good seats and snacks.”

“You just told me you loved me. We shouldn’t talk about it?”

“No.”

Clarke wanted to hide in her scarf. She wanted to disappear forever because emotions had just bubbled up and out of her mouth and now she couldn’t escape them. But at least it wasn’t during sex. There’d been a few rather wonderful moments in which she was certain her brain wanted to say how much she loved Lexa. Those were inappropriate moments, and by comparison, the present instant seemed normal enough.

“I want to talk about you being in love with me,” Lexa persisted as Clarke moved to pull away and head toward the town hall that doubled as the special theater for the one night engagement of a holiday classic.

Lexa pulled at Clarke’s arm, yo-yo-ing her back into her arms.

“It just popped out.”

“You love me, huh?” she smiled, warm and happy as she pushed away stray hair from Clarke’s face.

Toe to toe, they stood there on the slushy sidewalk as the plow made its way down the block and a few random people trudged with their hands deep in their pockets and their faces buried as deep as possible in their chests against the cold. Clarke looked everywhere but Lexa’s eyes, while the tattoo artist waited.

“I really do,” Clarke sighed and dropped her chin.

“Thank goodness. I’ve been in love with you for years.”

The confession was soft and whispered and true, but it struck Clarke as different. She played with the zipped of Lexa’s jacket before dragging her eyes from the important busywork to Lexa’s glance.

“Do you mean it?”

“I’m here. I’m in your hometown, spending a holiday with you because I want you around all the time,” she explained. “Of course I love you. I just couldn’t figure out how to sa–”

The ramble was cut short by lips. It was supposed to be chaste, but Clarke was overwhelmed with the news of her own feelings and those of her girlfriend which apparently she was late to fully grasp. So she deepened the kiss and tugged on Lexa’s shirt.

“Wow,” Lexa muttered, eyes still shut, but grown wide at the surprise.

“We’re going to be late for our movie.”

“That’s what you’re thinking about?”

“It’s really cold and I’m happy you’re happy, but yeah. I’m freezing.”

“You’re a lot of work, Congress. Just so you know.”

“Oh, I know it.”

Lexa put her arm over her girlfriend’s shoulders and moved her in the direction of the hall that would house the movie.

“So long as you know.”

* * *

The town was not so small and wholesome that it lacked everything of vice. While Clarke’s home sat in a rolling, gated neighborhood, and downtown was a picturesque Christmas card, as soon as someone knew where to look, it started to feel more normal for Lexa and less like a snow globe.

They sat for the movie and ate popcorn. Lexa hadn’t thought about the looks in a while, but she settled into her seat and felt a few eyes on her as she adjusted her sleeves and hung her coat on the back of her chair. But she put her arm around the back of Clarke’s chair and shared her Twizzlers as they watched the movie.

It was slightly too wholesome, when Lexa was used to things like her nieces and nephews howling while the adults drank too much and played poker or something. Instead, she found herself watching George Bailey figure out that being alive was okay sometimes while Clarke talked the whole time.

But finally, they were in her element.

“Another beer, another G and T, and another Seven and Seven please,” Lexa asked as she pushed her way through to the bar.

Filled with smoke and decidedly bustling for the day before Christmas Eve in the postcard capital of the holiday season, Lexa smiled and surveyed the noise and celebrating happening, feeling much more at home.

In a booth in the back corner, Clarke sat with her best friend and laughed. There was a neon Santa drinking a beer on the wall behind them and garland wrapped around every surface. Amidst the fog of the smoke, Christmas sweaters appeared in and out the crowd.

Half-hidden behind a cartoon reindeer doing an inappropriate gesture with a red nose, Clarke caught her girlfriend’s eye and gave her a wink.

“Wow, those tattoos are beautiful,” a voice interrupted the waiting. “I have a few myself.”

“Cool.”

Lexa didn’t look away from the girl in the booth.

“Can I get you–”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Skippy,” she muttered with a sigh. “No.”

“But I–”

At the table, Clarke swirled around the ice in her near empty glass and watched her girlfriend grow annoyed at the bar, and it made her smile.

“Alright, she’s hot as hell and charming. Got an spare hotties in DC?” Raven decided as Lexa reached over the bar and snagged some napkins after the man talking to her spilled a drink.

Clarke watched the shirt ride up a bit and expose some of the ink on her rib and back. She bit her straw and smiled slightly to herself. The alcohol made her needy.

“You’re already giving the stamp of approval, and you’ve only known her an hour.”

“Yeah, but when you know, you know,” she mused, as if her approval mattered more than anything else. “I have a good feeling about her.”

“I like her a lot.”

“Good. I have to admit, I didn’t want to like her. Didn’t think I would.”

“Why?” Clarke chuckled.

“All of the stories you ever told me were about the sex-god next door who had a rotating door of ladies. I was afraid she’d break your heart.”

“Nah.”

“I agree. She’s in love with you.”

Clarke wanted to hear more because she hadn’t heard someone else’s opinion of their relationship, and there wa no one with a keener eye than Raven. And it was after a few drinks, so her friend was feeling especially forthright.

“You wouldn’t believe what I had to go through to get these,” Lexa huffed as she slid into the chair beside her girlfriend. “I almost punched a guy.”

“I take it back,” Raven shook her head. “She’s almost perfect.”

“Because she didn’t punch a guy?”

“I would have loved to see that.”

“I can still go do it,” Lexa offered, standing slightly before Clarke tugged her back. “Fine.”

“I’ll go get the next round.”

“I’ll definitely punch him then.”

* * *

Without looking out the window, Lexa knew it was snowing. Something just felt as if the entire world was waking up to a white Christmas. It must have been barometric pressure or something of the sort, for there was nothing else that could explain how she knew, that when she opened her eyes, she would see snowflakes falling over the backyard of her girlfriend’s childhood yard.

And though Lexa knew it, without even opening an eye, and even though she felt it, without needing any proof at all, she didn’t have to confirm. Instead, she tried to swallow the dryness in her mouth that accompanied a night of drinking, and she tightened her hold on the girl in her arms. 

One year ago, she’d been in a similar position, but cramped on a lumpy, pull-out couch mattress. For a moment, Lexa allowed herself to not be guilted by her family, and she savored the feeling of a big bed with fluffy sheets and a distinct lack of lumps.

“I’m never drinking again,” Clarke groaned, adjusting only to pull Lexa’s arm tighter around herself.

“Isn’t it sangria day after breakfast?”

“Ughh,” she groaned, burrowing into the pillow.

“It’s your favorite holiday tradition.”

“No, it just makes the rest of them tolerable.”

With a shift, Lexa kissed Clarke’s shoulder, and then her neck. Clothes were long since gone, and only then, waking without opening her eyes, did Lexa wonder if they’d been too loud the night before when they came home after drinks with Raven. It was entirely possible, because there was certainly no way she was capable of behaving when her girlfriend nearly mauled her on the walk back, right there against the brick fence near the driveway.

“It’s hard, to be back, isn’t it?”

“I guess I didn’t realize how nice it was to be with your family and forget that my dad wasn’t around to make hot chocolate and build a gingerbread house with me.”

Lexa kissed her girlfriend’s neck and sat up slightly, finally opening her eyes. She was met with a smile, and tenderly, she pushed the hair from Clarke’s face. They smelled like cigarette smoke and alcohol and sex, and for some reason, Lexa was okay with this Christmas tradition.

“I’m excited to do all of the things you used to do.”

“But first, presents.”

“Agreed. Presents.”

* * *

There were presents. And there was a gingerbread house that was assembled and almost cute after it was inundated with candy decorations, though it stood, almost firm, against gravity. And there was a playlist of favorite songs and a breakfast consisting of pizza, per the tradition. And there were sweaters and sangria. And most importantly, there was the fabrication of a fort in the living room that consisted of, well, the entire living room.

It took Abby by surprise, Lexa thought, that Clarke was so transfixed upon completing her father’s traditions, but she went along with it and found the joy in remembering. It was easier with a buffer, with a new body who needed to learn, who hadn’t heard all of the same, ancient stories, who was a new set of ears and was ready to be instructed. That meant less wallowing and more celebrating.

Tucked beneath the stack of stretched out blankets and pillows, from the bed on the floor of the fort, Lexa smiled to herself and kissed Clarke’s head as they watched the remaining half of a Batman movie.

Sangria stained their lips and their bellies were full of an eclectic collection of food that’d been snacked on throughout the day.

“This was not the Christmas I expected from you, Congress. Just so you know.”

“You would have liked my dad.”

“I would have,” Lexa agreed, settling against her pillow a little deeper than before. “But do you think, maybe, if you want, that next year, we can stay home and not see either family? I’d like to just… I don’t know. Do us.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Maybe do a little of both? Definitely a fort.”

“Mmm, and you can make your mom’s fish thing that I liked and ate too much of last year,” Clarke suggested.

“Bacalhau?”

“Yeah, that,” she smiled and hugged Lexa’s waist tighter.

“Okay, we can do that. And lot of sangria.”

“Deal.”

“It’s set then.”

“I guess I have to keep you til then, huh?”

“You’re stuck with me, Congres,” Lexa reminded her, slipping her hand up the back of Clarke’s shirt as she rubbed circles on the skin there.

“Good.”

“Merry Christmas, Clarke.”

“Shhh, this is the best part of the movie.”

Lexa did what she was told, grinning the entire time.


End file.
